


50 Shades of Bureaucracy: Institutions

by vol_ctrl



Series: 50 Shades of Bureaucracy [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Wings, Angel of Judgement, Archangels, Blood and Injury, Caretaking, Corporal Punishment, Dark Council - Freeform, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Other, Powerlessness, Presents, Punished Gabriel, Punishment, Trials, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wingfic, get well soon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-10-29 08:24:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20793614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol_ctrl/pseuds/vol_ctrl
Summary: After his relationship with Beelzebub is discovered, Gabriel must face the consequences from Heaven. Beelzebub wrestles with consequences of their own, both from Hell and their own feelings.





	1. The Trial

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【好兆頭/上司組】上司們的五十道陰影：新創](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22372336) by [LysineNotGlutamate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LysineNotGlutamate/pseuds/LysineNotGlutamate)

> Part two begins! Welcome to the next chapter in this unreasonably long Ineffable Bureaucracy fic! Thank you loyal readers for all your wonderful comments through the first part. If you're new to the series, there is a [part one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20451902/chapters/48524288) that is a delicious read. It's not _absolutely_ required reading, but it gives context to the established/budding relationship between Gabriel & Beelzebub. The title of this part is inspired by [Organs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTmNxp3e4m4) by Pussy Riot.
> 
> Without further ado, let's jump into **Institutions**!

A golden chime rang through the vaulted marble halls of the High Court of Heaven as the officiant struck their staff against the ground.

“All ascend for the presiding Angel of Judgement, Angel of Presence and Penance, Phanuel,” echoed through the court. With a great susurrus of wings, dozens of angels in attendance lifted from marble benches that spiraled up from the Judgement floor.

Phanuel glittered with the unsullied light of God, for he had always been by Her side. His radiance made even angels weep. Dark hair struck sharp contrast with the brilliance of his halo, and his robes billowed with ethereal elegance. He strode forth with the regal stride of unmatched power, his face impassive as he took to the throne of judgement. With a graceful, two-fingered holy gesture of his hand, the angels drifted back to their seats.

“Bring in the accused,” Phanuel spoke, and the universe stopped to listen.

“The accused: Guardian Angel of Israel, and of Revelation, Keeper of Holiness, one of the Seven Mysteries, who is set over All the Powers, the Archangel Gabriel,” the officiant announced.

The choruses of angels flittered with whispers and quiet prayers against the sinner who entered their midst.

Gabriel was marched forth into the gallery with wrists bound in front of him. His halo glowed of brass, and he was dressed in the old fashion of angels, draped in the white linen of purity. His six wings spread powerful from his straight back.

“You don’t deserve those robes,” Uriel sneered beside him. “Hellfire would be too good for you.”

Sandalphon held Gabriel’s opposite arm with only a whisper of his fingers, as if he might become infected.

Michael was so beside himself, he had refused to present the accused. He stood already on the judgement floor and could not bear to look at Gabriel at all.

Uriel and Sandalphon deposited Gabriel in the center of the judgement floor and bowed low to Phanuel, then moved to join Michael on the periphery.

“Speak the charges,” Phanuel said. Although his face was still and stoic, his eyes burned like the eyes of God Herself.

“The accused is charged with sodomy, fetishism, unholy deeds, fraternization with demonic powers, demonic possession, collusion with Hell…”

“I see.”

Gabriel lifted his head and met Phanuel’s gaze.

“Brother. It has been some time.”

Gabriel bowed his head with respect. “I regret it is under such circumstances.”

“You once stood before God. By my side. And with Michael,” he gestured slowly to the scarred angel. “And our Fallen brother, Raphael.” Phanuel folded his hands slowly before himself. “You, too, fell victim to Temptation?” One brow creased.

Gabriel saw this and could not help but weep. “If you forsake me, brother, then I will Fall.”

“Being Cast Out is too good for this filth!” Uriel sneered.

Phanuel raised a hand to silence Uriel without moving his gaze from Gabriel. “You are the Keeper of Holiness, the one set over All the Powers between Heaven and Earth. How did this betrayal come to pass?”

Gabriel was miserable. He could not imagine a worse humiliation. To be caught in such a carnal, depraved act was not how he wished for his love for the Lord of Hell to be discovered. He knew he could not hide his proclivities from the eyes of Heaven forever, but he still had yet to prove his love to Beelzebub was true. The Lord of Hell did not yet return his affection, so how could his love be true? 

And what had he done, in his last moments with his beloved? Scorned them, accused them of cruelty, cast them out of his presence. His very essence ached with despair. Destruction would be deliverance from this nightmare. “I… I fell in love, brother.”

“With whom?”

“The Lord of the Flies. Satan’s Hand. One of the Seven Princes, the Lord of Hell. Beelzebub.”

Phanuel gave no reaction, and gestured slowly. “Brother Michael. Come forth and bear witness.”

Michael shivered and Uriel squeezed his shoulder to give him courage. The archangel stepped forward, hands clasped in front and eyes down. “I… I went to… to the accused’s residence on Earth.”

“And what did you see there?”

Gabriel watched Michael tremble and wanted to cease his existence.

“O-oh, brother,” Michael wept. “Horrible things. Please--do not make me speak of them,” he pleaded.

Phanuel bowed his head. “Sufficed to say--sins to such a degree as to deem the Archangel Gabriel unfit to rule over his Powers between Heaven and Earth?”

“Yes!” Michael gasped. He covered his mouth and struggled to compose himself. “Oh, such horrible things. He- he was devouring the devil’s... t-tool of sin!”

The gallery grew crowded with gasps of horror and vitriol. The officiant struck their golden staff against the ground, and the delicate chime quieted the shaken angels gradually.

“Is this true, Gabriel?” Phanuel asked, resting his jaw upon his fingers.

Gabriel wished to be swallowed up by the depths of Hell, or freed of his immortal coil with Hellfire. Anything but admit his sins to his holiest brother. He choked on the words and steeled himself. “Yes.” The stares from the gallery rained down on him like arrows.

“Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Gabriel took a low, shuddering breath, but no amount of air would alleviate the weight of guilt on his chest. Beelzebub would not forgive him. Heaven would not forgive him. He clenched his fists and slowly shook his head. “No.”

“I have reviewed your sins of the flesh, Brother. Our Lord God sees all. I see through Her eyes. You are guilty of what you have been accused. And what say the gallery?”

“GUILTY!” a resounding chorus of vengeful angelic voices.

“Innozzent,” came a singular voice.

Gabriel jolted as if he had been smote by God Herself. He turned sharply to see them standing there. 

Beelzebub leaned lazily against the threshold through which Gabriel had been marched. The Lord of Hell was dressed in their finest regalia, rank sash glittering with the souls of angels they had destroyed in the last Great War, surrounded by a vile, black aura and the stink of Hell. Beelzebub squinted up at the gallery with a sneer as angels gasped and hissed at their presence.

“Begone, Devil!” Uriel growled and lunged forward.

Michael gasped in horror and covered his face.

Gabriel’s heart wrenched to see his beloved standing there. Unspoken apologies crowded his mouth, muscles tight with longing to embrace them one last time.

Phanuel sat up stiffly. “Beelzebub. You proclaim Gabriel is innocent of sin?”

“Yezz,” Beelzebub said and stepped forward, hands stuffed in their pockets. Angels skirted away nervously, even from the high seats of the gallery.

“Speak your defense,” Phanuel allowed.

Gabriel was afraid of what Beelzebub might say. Then again--could it make his punishment any worse than total obliviation?

“It was I who tempted your zztupid archangel,” Beelzebub drawled. “He’zz an eazzy mark.” They cracked a grin.

Phanuel narrowed his eyes upon the prince of Hell. He found this to be True.

“Look at him,” Beelzebub snapped and jerked their chin at Gabriel. Their dark eyes dragged over Gabriel in disgust. “Azz you can zee, he’zz still his inzzufferable holy self.” The demon scowled at Gabriel’s angelic attributes. “Halo ztill glowzz. Wingzz ztill white.” Beelzebub tilted their head back at Phanuel. “And he profezzed his guilt, didn’t he? Fucking angelz are just looking for sinz they can repent for.”

Phanuel’s eyes twitched closed for a beat as the Lord of Hell cursed in his angelic court of Judgement.

“You know how Falling from Grace workz, Phanuel. The Fall startz long before Judgement.”

The angel of Judgement considered this. “And what of his proclamation of love? Did you seed this within him?”

“No,” Beelzebub growled. “That wazz all him.”

There were murmurs in the gallery.

“That’zz what angelz do, isn’t it? Izn’t love what you mizerable foolz are all about?” They turned to look at the gathered angels. Their gaze caused a ripple through the crowd, as if the angels could not bear to even be within their sight. “Hizz ztupid love cancelled out my temptation.”

Phanuel stared hard at the prince of Hell, but it was as if he were looking past them. “I am afraid that is not how it works.”

“You’re all a bunch of fucking hypocritezz,” Beelzebub muttered.

“Only true love can absolve the accused.” Phanuel glanced at Gabriel without compassion, then back to Beelzebub. “Lord of Hell, do you love the Archangel Gabriel?”

Beelzebub stiffened, eyes wide and jaw tight. After a beat, “... Yezz.”

Phanuel found this to be True.

Gabriel felt as if he had been discorporated, as if he were witnessing this trial from outside his body. He stood still as a statue, staring at the demon he thought would never say the words aloud, would never admit what he so longed to hear.

Phanuel’s holy gaze moved slowly from one side of the gallery to the other, then returned to Gabriel. “Our God is a merciful God, brother.”

Gabriel felt a great weight lift from his chest, and fall to the pit of his stomach.

“You must repent for your sins. You will be stripped of all the Powers, save for those of minor miracles. You will be condemned to Earth for a period of one thousand years, during which time you will redeem your occupation as messenger.”

Gabriel fell to his knees and supplicated himself to Phanuel. “Our God is a merciful God!” he wept.

Beelzebub rolled their eyes. Their shoulders sank with untold relief that Gabriel was not going to be Cast Out. If that happened, they  _ would  _ make good on their promise to destroy him themself.

“The Judgement is cast, and adjourned.”

“All ascend!” The officiant cried.

No angel dared say a word as Phanuel rose and drifted from the court.


	2. Third Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale reads about Gabriel's trial in the _Celestial Observer_, and beside himself with guilt for his hand in the Archangel's corruption.

“Oh, Crowley!”

Crowley knew that tone--either Aziraphale had discovered a mishandled book, or something was  _ really  _ wrong. He stopped spraying the broad-leafed ferns against the north wall of the cottage, and turned to see the angel rushing toward him with tears in his eyes. He dropped the hose immediately to receive his distraught partner in his arms.

“What is it, angel?” he asked. The angel was clutching some newspaper tightly in one hand. He squeezed Aziraphale close and rubbed at his back.

“It’s  _ Gabriel, _ ” Aziraphale whispered.

“I’ve never heard you so upset over that asshole.” Crowley’s expression twisted in confusion, chin tucked against Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“Crowley, it’s terrible,” he whispered. The angel pulled back and carefully straightened the newspaper. The script made it immediately apparent that it was no mortal newspaper.

“Is that the  _ Celestial Observer? _ ” Crowley squinted at the overly-immaculate newsprint. “You still read that rag?”

“Gabriel was put on trial.”

Crowley lit up. “Serves him right.”

“He was put before  _ Phanuel. _ ”

Crowley’s blood ran cold and he gave an involuntary shudder. “Oh. Shit.” He would never forget those eyes of judgement. They were the eyes of one he had called brother, who had held his hand before the radiance of God. Those were the eyes that may have judged him alongside God. The eyes that haunted him as he Fell.

“What was he tried for?” Crowley asked, brows tense above his glasses.

Aziraphale’s eyes shone with tears. “It’s all my fault,” he said thickly.

“Hey,” Crowley soothed and squeezed Aziraphale’s arms, “How many times do I have to tell you? Gabriel is  _ not  _ your problem anymore.”

Aziraphale sniffed. “ _ I  _ gave him advice-- _ I  _ gave him that book. I-I should have asked, I should have warned him,” his voice cracked.

“What are you talking about?” Crowley touched Aziraphale’s cheek. He floundered to find some way to comfort him when he wasn’t making any damn sense. “I don’t care what you think you did, that bastard doesn’t deserve--oh, don’t cry, angel.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath, feeding on Crowley’s strength and sympathy. He wasn’t just upset that he’d had some hand in this; he was angry, too. Heaven’s standards and their refusal to acknowledge the fluidity and power of love to transcend all supposed party lines did nothing but cause suffering.

“He was tried for sodomy. And fraternization. Fetishism--they put that in the paper!” Aziraphale was outraged. “He and--yes,” Aziraphale saw it dawn on Crowley’s face in slack-jawed shock, “Beelzebub.”

“Holy… shit,” Crowley spluttered and laughed.

“It’s no laughing matter, Crowley!” Aziraphale’s hands shook. “He’s ruined.”

Crowley sobered up as he saw the fire in Aziraphale’s eyes. “... Not just ruined,” he said quietly. “Did they..?” A dark part of Crowley relished the thought of Gabriel getting the very Hellfire treatment he had intended for Aziraphale.

“No…” Aziraphale sighed and his shoulders sank. “It’s not very clear why, but--” Aziraphale rustled the paper, scanning down the angelic script. “It just says, ‘The whole of the gallery in attendance sayeth Guilty. By the merciful Grace of Our Lord God, it hath been decided that the Sinner Angel shall be stripped of Rank, removed of his All Powers. His tainted Being,” the words prickled on his tongue, “hath been Banished for an Age, and shall serveth his Penance on the mortal Plane.’”

Crowley crossed his arms over his chest with a frown. “I don’t know why you’re so upset. Sounds like he got off pretty light to me.”

Aziraphale looked pale as he met Crowley’s impassive expression. “Crowley… Do you know what happens when an archangel is stripped of rank?”

“No…” The demon’s frown deepened. “Guessing it’s bad.”

_ “Principality Aziraphale!” Gabriel clasped his hands together with a perfunctory smile. “That time again, is it?” _

_ Aziraphale fidgeted with the ring on his pinky as he took a step into the office, longing for a hat to twist around in his hands as he did on Earth. He returned the functional smile tightly. “Archangel,” he greeted with a little bow of his head. “It appears to be.” _

_ “Time does fly, doesn’t it?” Gabriel gestured toward the seat in front of his desk with an expectant look. He placed his hands on the back of his own chair, looming with his usual overbearance. “Maybe not for you,” he chuckled. “All the way…  _ down there. _ ” _

_ Aziraphale walked forward into Gabriel’s office with trepidation. He had nothing to be nervous about, he reminded himself. He had filed all his paperwork quite promptly and succinctly for the past millennia--such were the demands of keeping his little ‘arrangement’ under wraps. “Time passes arguably quicker down there,” he said conversationally, “as the humans are always changing, innovating--” _

_ “I’m sure.” _

_ Aziraphale cleared his throat quietly as he sat down and peered up at Gabriel. _

_ “So.” Gabriel straightened his suit as he sat swiftly in his chair. “What’s new?” _

_ “Well, as my reports state--” _

_ “Yes, the paperwork.” Gabriel grinned brightly. “It does all seem to be in order. Well done, Principality.” _

_ Aziraphale bit his tongue behind a smile. He hated being interrupted. These millennial reviews were the bane of his immortal existence. Why did Gabriel bother summoning him if he was just going to cut him off at every turn? _

_ “There was that little spat of frivolous miracles in, ah,” Gabriel leaned forward to peer with disinterest at the records on his desk, “well, you know the time. I sent you a little note, didn’t I?” Gabriel wagged a finger at Aziraphale. _

_ “Yes,” Aziraphale replied, tight-lipped. “I do apologize for my propensity to--” _

_ “All in the past,” Gabriel said, waving a broad hand. “Other than that, your work has been impeccable. If not a tad… boring.” His nose wrinkled as he smirked. “Be a little ambitious, Aziraphale! You’re doing God’s work, after all. God is  _ great _ , not just  _ good. _ ” _

_ “Of course, Archangel,” Aziraphale replied calmly. _

_ “We’ve been busy Up Here!” Gabriel sighed, lacing his fingers. _

_ “Oh?” Aziraphale smiled politely. _

_ “Yes. Big trial.” His eyebrows raised appreciatively. “Quite a mess, really.” His cheeks swelled with a big, affected sigh. _

_ Aziraphale folded and refolded his hands. “I see.” _

_ “Yeah--little subterfuge issue,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. _

_ Aziraphale raised a brow. “Subterfuge?” _

_ Gabriel sank his chin into his laced fingers with a serious look. “Mm. One of our own was colluding with the Damned. Using back channels, fraternizing…” He shook his head with forced sympathy. “You know what happens.” _

_ Aziraphale swallowed. “I’m… I’m afraid I don’t, Archangel.” _

_ “Blessed are the ignorant!” Gabriel cried and sat back with a grin. “We,” he swelled with righteousness, “must do what needs to be done.” He leveled Aziraphale with steady lavender eyes, cold in the brilliant light of Head Office. “There are no back channels. There is no tolerance for any sort of collusion. Can’t trust a demon! And you can’t trust an angel who trusts a demon.” Gabriel scoffed and shook his head. _

_ Aziraphale stayed very still. “What…” he cleared his throat, “was the verdict?” _

_ “Guilty,” Gabriel chirped, “of course.” _

_ “And the punishment?” His palms were sweating. _

_ Gabriel turned a smile of pity on Aziraphale. “Do you really want to know, Principality? It’s not your department.” _

_ “Humor me.” He smiled. “So much time spent on Earth, sometimes I think I hardly know Heaven anymore.” _

_ “Well.” Gabriel rubbed his hands together. “That’s for Third Heaven to take care of.” _

_ “I... I thought Third Heaven was only for mortals who dishonored God.” _

_ “And those who practice sin against nature on Earth, yes.” _

_ Aziraphale forced a smile. “Of course.” _

_ “For angels who dishonor God--well, that’s the Ultor department. The punishment for collusion and fraternization is requisition.” _

_ “Of?” _

_ “The wings, Aziraphale. Duh.” _

_ Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat, eyes wide. _

_ “Grisly, isn’t it?” Gabriel shivered. Aziraphale thought he noted a little too much pleasure in the motion. _

Aziraphale nodded gravely. “Third Heaven.” He fought not to let his voice tremble.

“ _ Oh. _ ” Crowley swallowed on a dry throat.

“The Ultor… requisition the wings of the transgressor.”

The space between Crowley’s shoulder blades itched. He’d never had his wings  _ requisitioned,  _ per se, but Falling had involved a certain amount of being torn apart molecule by molecule and reformatted into an entity of suffering and pain. Unpleasant, to say the least.

Crowley cleared his throat. “Yeah, pretty bad.”

“It’s all my fault,” Aziraphale moaned and looked mournfully at the paper. “If I had known--oh, I could have done  _ something. _ ”

Crowley scratched at the back of his head, then slithered over to Aziraphale’s side and wrapped an arm around his soft shoulders. “Angel, I don’t think you could have,” he said softly.

“If I had truly believed anything would come of it, I would have,” Aziraphale implored Crowley.

“I know--”

“But an archangel and the Lord of Hell.” He clucked his tongue. “I didn’t…” He smiled bitterly and shook his head. His misty gaze turned on Crowley and grew so full of warmth. “Love will find a way,” he whispered. The angel took his demon’s sharp jaw in hand and kissed his cheek, lingering there.

Crowley smiled. “I would say stranger things have happened, but.” His eyebrows lifted in honest disbelief. “It’s pretty strange.”

“Stranger than two beings on  _ opposite sides  _ dancing around the inevitable, the obvious, the,” he let slip a tiny chuckle, “the  _ ineffable,  _ if you will, for six thousand years?”

“Well.” Crowley cocked his head. “That’s different, innit?”

Aziraphale leveled a knowing look at his beloved. “Not so different, no.”

“Let’s get you a cup of tea,” Crowley suggested.

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Aziraphale worried.

Crowley sighed. “Is it terrible that I don’t care?”

“Yes, Crowley, it is!” He looked affronted.

The demon groaned. “You’re too soft, angel.” He steered Aziraphale back toward the house. “Alright, alright. What do you wanna do about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third Heaven is a [real thing](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Third_Heaven) in Christianity, but the Ultor are an invention of my own. Ultor is Latin for "avenger, revenger, punisher." For that matter, Phanuel is a [real angel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phanuel_\(angel\)) from the gnostic Book of Enoch (my favorite). Yay research!


	3. The Dark Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub is summoned before the Dark Council to answer for their questionable appearance at Archangel Gabriel's trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening for this chapter: [Organs](https://open.spotify.com/track/369ZHVk9UlOxmRcjs6XeUr) by Pussy Riot.

“Sir?” 

Beelzebub’s blank stare rose to fix Dagon in its cross-hairs.

The silence made Dagon shrink worse than any word Lord Beelzebub could have spat at him. He averted his gaze to the floor and held out a folded document of aged papyrus. Red wax dripped in the path of the pool of it at the closure. The paper itself gave away its origin; the beastly seal confirmed it.

Beelzebub sat up slowly and took the letter as their eyes burned into Dagon’s bowed head. Without lifting his head, Dagon straightened and backed away from Beelzebub’s throne.

The prince turned the letter over in their hands. Was it worth opening?

Beelzebub exhaled and sank slowly into their throne. They traced the wax seal. How long had it been since the seven princes of the seven domains had met? Beelzebub closed their eyes with a self-deprecating smile. Just yesterday, it felt like--when their pretty little war had been ruined. They stared up at the craggy shadows melting from the ceiling. That had come down on their head, too. A failure of the highest degree, all because of some scrappy traitors and a defective Antichrist.

And now… The highest prince in Hell, the bureaucrat between Lucifer himself and those who acted over his dominions, had been in attendance of the controversial trial of one Archangel Gabriel. It was absurd to think that this would go unnoticed. There was always an ax waiting to fall in Hell, but rarely was it poised above the very Lord of Hell themself.

Beelzebub dragged their finger along the seam of paper and wax and unfolded the letter.

_ Come and see. _

The prince stared at the words written in Leviathan’s gothic script. Their hand grew heavy, until the papyrus hung limp between their knees and their gaze had returned to a far-off point down the hall.

Beelzebub took a breath and lifted themself out of their throne. They straightened their coat and formal sash, medals and honors of old heavy on the tattered silk, and tucked the letter into their breast pocket. Without a word to Dagon, or any of the other dukes lurking about the court, Beelzebub set off down the long hallway toward the center of Hell.

Hell was full of hallways, many of them crowded with the shambling masses of restless, damned souls. This hall was conspicuously vacant. An ancient brimstone, rotten egg stench hung like a threat in the air of the timeless hall that led toward the very heart of Hell. A great archway yawned open for the Lord of Hell alone as Beelzebub approached. It was garlanded with dessicated roses and vines, hung with rotten silks, and beyond steps descended even further downward than their usual domain. The lower Beelzebub went, the louder the thud against the stone walls, like some horrible, monstrous heartbeat that throbbed and constricted the air. The prince walked with steady purpose, unhurried.

At the bottom of the stairs, the Dark Council was gathered in the Infernal Court. Wretched brimstone polished to a marble sheen glinted dully with candlelight. Gold flaked from the ancient filigree and fixtures, and the place was mobbed with cobwebs and dust. It had once been a glorious court. Lucifer’s chair still sat in a place of honor upon a dais, made of shattered bones and skulls trapped in silent screams; vacant, now.

But the other chairs were occupied. Leviathan--like an older brother to Beelzebub; once-beautiful curls forever dripping with black water, once-sharp eyes now milky white set in dark voids. Asmodeus--still beautiful with dark hair and smoldering eyes, vulpine features accented by devilish fox ears he wore proudly, dressed in opulent silks and lace. Berrith--the vein of her forehead as threatening as her clenched fists, coarse hair streaked with gray. Astaroth--draped lazily across their chair, a forgotten blunt between two long-nailed fingers, skin mottled with moss and mold. Verrine--sharp eyes darting hither and thither, torn, bloody, bitten nails tapping on the cracked table that stretched across the span of princes. Low growls and whimpers came from Gressil, an abomination that had managed only a handful of intelligent words in six thousand years. The only one who looked like they might fit in a boardroom both here and on Earth was Soneillon, the most junior of all the princes, and most akin to humans in their capacity for hatred.

“Brother,” Asmodeus greeted with a generous smile.

“Or is it sister?” Soneillon mused with a knife-blade sharp sneer.

“Zebiel,” Leviathan addressed Beelzebub by their most ancient name in a husky whisper, and the rest fell quiet.

Beelzebub took another step forward, hands clasped behind their back as they took in each of the princes in turn. “A rare occazzion that all the far-flung princezz gather.” Their eyes narrowed. “I would have expected an advanzze invitation.”

“You were rather difficult to reach all the way in Heaven, brother,” Asmodeus drawled.

“Indisposed, were you?” Soneillon asked, eyes glittering.

“Just what were you doing at that trial?” Verrine snapped.

Leviathan raised a hand. “In due time, Verrine.” The drenched prince leaned forward. “You’ve been quite the little busy bee, haven’t you, Zebiel?”

Asmodeus grinned. “You’ve got a new boyfriend.”

Berrith shot Asmodeus a look, then jerked her chin at Beelzebub. “Well trained, too.”

Beelzebub stood still in cool repose.

“If I had known we’d lifted the ban on tempting archangels, I’d be up to here in angel dick,” Asmodeus gestured.

“We _ haven’t _lifted the ban,” Verrine growled, glaring through severe glasses at Beelzebub.

“Ah, so we haven’t?” Leviathan mused with mock surprise.

“I wazz afforded an opportunity,” Beelzebub said.

Gressil’s writhing horror of a body screamed and growled. The princes turned to listen.

“Gressil is right,” Soneillon said from beside the monstrosity. “There is an order to these things.”

“Without order there is chaos.” Verrine’s words came out like words from a typewriter, precise and swift. “There is only one who is master of chaos. And it is not _ you, _Beelzebub.”

“That night--the night of the defective Antichrist’s birthday party,” Leviathan looked through Beelzebub with ruined eyes, “you did _ not _tempt the archangel Gabriel.”

“That izz correct.”

“But you made him believe that he had laid with you in sin.”

“Precizzely.”

“Bo-ring.” Asmodeus rolled his eyes.

“Needlessly complex,” Verrine muttered.

“I thought it was quite good,” Berrith said in a fit of rare good spirit, a dark grin smeared across her lips.

“A clever little loophole,” Leviathan allowed. “But that was not the last of your contact with the Archangel Gabriel.”

“No.”

Leviathan raised a brow expectantly.

“He… pursued me.”

“Don’t make it sound so dire!” Soneillon cackled. “He _ called _you. We have the records.”

“You agreed to meet with the Archangel Gabriel without a scrap of paperwork,” Verrine shrilled.

“And on that night…”

“I did not tempt him,” Beelzebub said evenly. “He indulged of hizz own free will.”

A collective tension shivered through the gathered princes like a pulse spiked with adrenaline.

“You have the recordzz.”

Soneillon and Verrine glared at Beelzebub. Berrith’s cruel face was creased with confusion, and perhaps just a touch of admiration. Leviathan’s clammy face gave away nothing.

“You seeded your will in him.”

“With a lie. Are demonzz banned from lying to archangelzz?”

The princes looked to one another, and Beelzebub could feel the pack’s hunger growing. Technicalities would not win the hearts and minds of a council of the very worst Hell had to offer. The tension snapped suddenly.

“Why has the archangel not Fallen?” Leviathan demanded in a low voice.

Beelzebub bit their tongue and fought to keep their composure. They had to play their cards very carefully here. If the council had the records of everything that had transpired on Earth, there was a chance they had already acquired the records of the trial in Heaven. Did they know what Beelzebub had confessed to Phanuel? Did they knew it was _ their _fault alone that Gabriel had been given a lesser punishment than Falling or obliviation?

“I did not want him to Fall,” Beelzebub said sharply.

Shock reverberated on the opposite side of the table. 

“Do you not recall what happened with our lazzt Fallen archangel?” Beelzebub growled and glared at each prince in turn. “The demon Crowley… if you can tell me of a bigger pain in the azz than Crowley, I’m all ears.”

Though Crowley had been under Beelzebub’s domain, tales of his triumph and betrayal had spread far and wide across the Infernal Kingdom. After the failed Armageddon, he was infamous Hell-wide. The council took this into consideration.

“Gabriel izz _ the _ most obnoxious, inzufferably good angelzz in all of Creation. If he Fallzz, I don’t want him in _ my _domain.”

“But he is powerful. Think of the _ potential _we would bring to our side,” Berrith hissed.

“It is not your decision alone whether or not Gabriel Falls,” Leviathan told the high prince before the council. “You overstep your powers, Lord Beelzebub.”

“Who sitzz in the throne between the counzzil and Lucifer himself?!” Beelzebub boomed. “Izz it you, Leviathan, who Fell second? Or you, Azzmodeus, our Infernal King’zz plaything?” The prince’s heels snapped like guillotine blades as they advanced toward Leviathan. “No. It izz _ I _who sitzz in that seat. I do not need to bring every shred of my biznezz before you squabbling princezz.”

Leviathan glared up at the diminutive demon that loomed over him.

“If I do not want another Archangel to Fall into _ my _ domain, that izz for _ me _to decide.”

“Ahh, it’s so lovely to see your passion, my sweet little butterfly…”

Every prince stood as if pins had shot up from their chairs. With a scrape of chairs on brimstone, every one of them fell to one knee and bowed their head so as not to look upon their Infernal King without permission.

Lucifer stepped forward on the dais, dark tongues of shadow licking over his corrupted celestial form. The devil had many forms, and for this occasion, he chose to wear the guise he had donned in Heaven all those millenia ago. His hair, pale as foggy sunshine, melted in curls over his plain white robe. The robe hung straight and unfolded from his broad shoulders down to his bare feet, obscuring the form of the most beautiful angel Heaven had ever seen. Blood-red eyes passed over the kneeling council and he smiled.

“Come, darling Zebiel.” Lucifer beckoned Beelzebub forth and sank slowly into his horrible throne.

Beelzebub slowly lifted their head, then got to their feet. True terror gripped them then. Lying to Lucifer was like lying to Phanuel--impossible. But the consequences of such a lie would be far less pleasant by Lucifer’s hand. Slowly, they approached the beauty of the Infernal King.

“You are worthy of your position as Lord of Hell,” Lucifer assured them. “There is no question of that. You are as skilled with temptation as you are with violence. Your hedonism is beyond compare. And…” Lucifer tilted his head with a look of amusement. “You’re very organized.”

“Thank you, my King,” Beelzebub said quietly.

“Come closer,” Lucifer beckoned.

Beelzebub’s legs resisted for a moment before forced into motion. They ascended the dais slowly. Lucifer extended a hand to lure the prince to his very side. Beelzebub stilled the instinct to tremble before such power. The Infernal King reeked of rot and death. 

Lucifer’s hand met Beelzebub’s cheek, his touch colder than ice. “You were once so lovely, Zebiel. As flighty and ephemeral as your creations.” Lucifer’s fingers trailed down the side of Beelzebub’s neck, then traced over the rewards littered on their sash. “You embraced the corruption of Hell. My proud dissenter.” Lucifer smiled, and Beelzebub wanted nothing more than to swear fealty and Fall for him all over again.

“I find this fancy of yours for Gabriel precious.” The princes remained kneeling, but exchanged looks of disgust and confusion. “But so secretive...:” Lucifer narrowed a brow at Beelzebub for a moment, then dismissed his searching gaze. “No matter. You always were very private.”

“It izz… an unuzzual occupation. One that causezz doubt among my subordinatezz, az you zzee.”

“Indeed. Prudent of them, given some of the questionable loyalties of late.” Lucifer rested his chin upon his fingers. “I wonder about your intentions, Lord Beelzebub. Your contribution to the former-Archangel’s trial was… very interesting.”

Beelzebub felt Lucifer’s words freeze and crystalize inside them, prickling like a threat of a thousand blades. It should have come as no surprise that Lucifer knew exactly what had happened. He was nigh as omniscient as God Herself, so omnipresent he might as well have been there, just over Beelzebub’s shoulder at the trial. However, Lucifer had not said the words aloud--he did not reveal the questionable words Beelzebub had spoken in Heaven to the other princes. He still had confidence in his Lord of Hell. A deep, ineffable pull in Beelzebub desperately wanted to prove that confidence was not misplaced.

“You have him so perfectly poised,” Lucifer said with the delicacy of discussing a particularly delicious morsel.

“I wanted to prolong his zzuffering,” Beelzebub replied.

“You _ do _intend for him to Fall?” Lucifer asked. A smile of pleasure bloomed across his beautiful face.

“... If that izz your will, my King.” Beelzebub bowed. “However, azz I said before, I do not advizze it…”

“We’ve learned from our mistakes, haven’t we, Beelzebub?” Lucifer asked sweetly. “Even Fallen, I doubt Gabriel would prove as conniving as our traitorous brother, Crowley. He lacks the cunning.”

“Indeed, my King,” Beelzebub said quietly.

“At least for another six thousand years…” Lucifer sighed. “I think it would prove good for morale to lay the former Archangel Gabriel low.” Lucifer considered Beelzebub and then brought a hand to their chin, lifting their face. “You’ll see to it, then?”

“Yezz, my King.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The seven princes of Hell are based on the Pseudo-Dionysian hierarchy as described by Sebastien Michaelis in his 1613 book [_Admirable History_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Classification_of_demons#Michaelis'_classification_of_demons).
> 
> Each prince has a domain, which I implied in the narrative without explicitly giving it away. According to this hierarchy, Beelzebub's domain is pride, Leviathan - heresy, Asmodeus - lust, Berrith - violence, Astaroth - sloth, Verrine - impatience, Gressil - impurity, Soneillon - hatred. I had a lot of fun crafting these "original" characters.
> 
> Thanks to [OKami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu) for helping me come up with Beelzebub's angelic name, Zebiel.


	4. All I Need is Some Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel returns from Third Heaven, stripped of all the Powers, save those for minor miracles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is another line from ["Black Water"](https://open.spotify.com/track/470qwbnZGjoDgf45d3y5EV) by Timber Timbre.

Through an intoxicated haze, Beelzebub felt Gabriel return to Earth. They sat up sharply and looked around. They couldn’t remember when the trial had ended, or how long they’d been binge drinking at Gabriel’s apartment, but it must’ve been a few days. Maybe a week? Maybe two…

Rubbing at their eyes, Beelzebub drained a bit of the booze out of their system and shook their head. Now, where was that idiot… They shuffled, bottle in hand, toward the definitive presence. It was different than it had been. Duller. Sort of a rusted-brass.

“You zzurvived?” Beelzebub drawled as they kicked open the bedroom door with their toe. The sight of Gabriel sobered them up real quick. He lay face-down on the bed, as if he’d been air-dropped straight from Heaven. Feathers drifted slowly around him. His back was a misery of bloody brutality. Where there had once been six wings, now only two remained.

_ Stripped of all the Powers, save for those of minor miracles. _

Gabriel had not been Cast Out, but he had not gone unpunished.

Beelzebub staggered forward. They slammed the bottle down on a mirrored bedside table and just stared. Gabriel’s muscles twitched, gaping wounds where bones had once been oozed blackened blood.

“Gabriel.”

No response.

Beelzebub lifted a hand. Their fingers twitched as they reached out and touched Gabriel’s bare shoulder. The limb jumped under the demon’s touch and Beelzebub recoiled.

Gabriel came to and was sure he was still in Heaven. Not for any feeling of comfort or home, but for the agony. Third Heaven. Where the Ultor reigned and delivered punishment to those who dishonor God, those who on Earth practice sin against nature. His cry was hoarse as he clawed blindly.

“Gabriel. Gabriel. Be ztill.”

The pain was more visceral on the mortal plane. Gone was the soul-wrenching agony of celestial fibre being ripped from his very being, but in its place was a pain so complete it felt as if he was being vivisected with daggers of Hellfire. Gabriel sobbed and kept clawing desperately. But instead of a cold void, he felt sheets and a pillow rip under his nails. Something touched his hair and he flinched. Then he heard a soft buzzing. Soothing him. Fingers were stroking his hair.

“It doezn’t have to hurt…”

Gabriel whimpered and curled inward. With a gasp, he stopped, the agony only worse as he tried to make himself smaller. His whole body shook and he groped stiffly, blindly, for something--anything.

Beelzebub grabbed his hand, holding tight.

Gabriel struggled to turn his head and see through the fuzzy haze of tears and pain. He blinked and could just barely make out a pale face framed with dark hair.

“Drink thizz. It doezn’t have to hurt.”

Gabriel felt a glass pressed to his lips. He almost choked as liquid was tipped down his sandpaper throat. He coughed, but the glass insisted. It was sweet and rich and velvety. 

“... Bee?” he croaked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” Gabriel felt his consciousness slipping away. He gripped Beelzebub’s small hand tightly, trying to claw his way back to wakefulness. He wanted to tell Beelzebub how grateful he was, how much he loved them, how much they meant to him…

“Go to sleep, idiot.”

When Gabriel opened his eyes again, he wished it was anything but morning. Light flooded in through the windows. Even with his head turned away, the light bounced around the airy bedroom. His vision was hazy, but he could see one thing--Beelzebub. They were stripped to the waist and covered in blood up to their elbows, streaks of the stuff on their cheek and torso. Their knees were bent and propped up their mottled arms. Smoke swirled through the morning light from a cigarette dangling between Beelzebub’s lips. They stared at the far wall and traded the cigarette for a long drink from a tumbler of something clear and potent. 

“... Are you drinking straight vodka?” Gabriel whispered. His voice was raspy and small. His throat felt almost numb.

Beelzebub turned to look at Gabriel. “You’re awake.” They stared blankly at Gabriel for a long moment, then looked at their glass. “Yeah.”

“Hm.” Didn’t seem like such a bad idea, except Gabriel felt like he had been drinking straight vodka based on the throbbing of his head. “Where am I?” he mumbled.

“Your place.” Beelzebub dragged at their cigarette, then took another sip from the glass.

Gabriel peeked at Beelzebub again. “Are you covered in blood?”

“Mhm.”

“Not yours, I’m guessing.”

“Nah. Yourzz.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Juzzt leaving, actually,” Beelzebub said through a cloud of smoke, then stubbed out their cigarette in an ashtray almost overflowing.

“No,” Gabriel groaned.

Beelzebub peered over at the pitiful idiot and cracked a grin. “Kidding,” they muttered in a smoke-rasped voice. “Not gonna let thizz kill you.”

Gabriel let his eyes close with some small relief, but the darkness reminded him too much of that dark place in Heaven. They shot open again and he tried to angle his head to look at himself, to confirm that he was mostly flesh and blood and not just agony. He moved his arm toward Beelzebub and distantly registered that his torso was wrapped in bandages. Pain lanced down his shoulder and to his spine. He hissed sharply and squeezed his eyes shut.

Beelzebub looked at him from the corner of their eyes. They placed the short glass into Gabriel’s weakly outstretched hand. The angel cracked open an eye and huffed out a short, pained laugh.

“No,” he breathed. “I want…”

“Zzhut it,” Beelzebub muttered. They took the glass back and downed the contents quickly. “I know.” The demon tossed the glass carelessly over the side of the bed, then crept closer.

Gabriel grabbed Beelzebub around the waist with a wince and dragged them close with what felt like the last of his strength. The prince complied, and Gabriel’s head fell gratefully into their lap. The stink of Hell was very faint on Beelzebub. Instead, Gabriel smelled something he had never quite registered--distinctly Beelzebub. Almost sickly sweet, but musky. Organic decay; a warning, dangerous, but alluring smell.

It was no trick. He was finally free from his punishment. And Beelzebub was here.

The Lord of Hell heaved out a sigh as Gabriel’s huge, battered frame began to shake. They looked away and slumped back against the torn pillows. Their blood-crusted fingers ran slowly through Gabriel’s hair as he sobbed in relief and anguish.

Hours, days passed in a dreamless sleep, a black void of nothingness; an unspoken threat, a remembered terror. Fresh waves of agony dragged him to consciousness. A scream died in his dry throat. Something was clotting up his mouth and choking his tongue. He was face down, weighed down, something holding him in place. His hands were not restrained, unlike in his nightmare-memories of Third Heaven. It felt like his flesh was tearing as he lashed out with an arm.

A hand caught his wrist sharply, then another grabbed his hair. “Zzhould’ve figured you wouldn’t sleep through thizz.”

Gabriel tried to speak, but something was blocking his mouth.

“Be zztill,” Beelzebub said close to his ear.

He breathed sharply through his nose and relaxed his arm. Beelzebub released his wrist. Using their grip in his hair, they turned his head and gently extricated something from his mouth--some cloth, damp with his saliva.

“Zzo you didn’t bite your tongue,” Beelzebub muttered and tossed it aside.

Reality sank in slowly. He was lying face-down in bed, a pillow propped up under his chest. The weight on him was Beelzebub, straddled on his lower back. To his right, the bed was covered with a towel. On the towel he saw what looked like tiny black pins. He smelled smoke--acrid, like a cigarette, not a fire.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel whispered. It was dark for the most part. Gabriel could see some bright light directed over his shoulder. The light was blinding in contrast with the thick darkness, so he couldn’t even glimpse of Beelzebub, just the faint serpent trail of smoke from a cigarette. “It hurts.”

“Your fucking torturerzz were sloppy.” Beelzebub’s voice was muffled slightly by the cigarette bobbing in their lips. Their weight shifted on his lower back, and Gabriel heard a slosh of liquid. Beelzebub delivered a bottle to near his shoulder. “Drink. You need it.”

“What is it?” Gabriel asked.

“Little cocktail. Wine. Some opiatezz. It’ll knock you back out.”

Gabriel winced. “Is that how you’ve kept me out? Drugs?” No wonder his head felt so foggy. He wanted to be affronted and offended, but that took more effort than he currently had in his body.

“Don’t get butt-hurt, idiot.” Beelzebub left the bottle leaned against Gabriel’s neck, and the angel held it loosely to keep it from spilling. They picked something up--Gabriel could distantly feel that it had been lying on his skin, hated that he hadn’t felt it until then, then a wave of pain radiated from his back and he gasped. Beelzebub’s hand pushed down on the back of his neck, and it felt like the demon was digging a needle through his spine.  
“STOP! Stop!” he shouted, and Beelzebub did. Gabriel clung to the bottle because he had nothing else to cling to and his breath came in sharp gasps.

“Told you, you need it,” they gestured to the bottle. Gabriel heard them suck on their cigarette.

“Why are you hurting me?” Gabriel gasped.

“Becauzze they did a sloppy job.”

“Please…” Gabriel begged and dug his head into the pillows. To be tortured in the Third Heaven by his own kind was one thing, but to be tortured now by someone he loved was too much. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I’m sorry you had to--”

“Zzhut it.” Beelzebub shoved at the back of Gabriel’s head. “I’m cleaning up their sloppy job,” they muttered.

Gabriel lifted his head slightly and tried to look at Beelzebub, but the blinding light washed them out. All he could see was his own twitching wing, the hem of their trousers and a curve of a bloody arm. “I can’t see you…”

“Good.” Beelzebub sighed and tossed some tool onto the towel. They reached over Gabriel and turned off the light. “You don’t wanna zee.”

“You’re…” Gabriel swallowed. “You’re here taking care of me…?”

Beelzebub growled and moved off Gabriel’s back. The angel couldn’t see anything in the all-encompassing darkness except the ember of the demon’s cigarette as they moved across the bed. They gathered things up, slid off the bed, and disappeared.

Gabriel held his breath for a moment, waited for Beelzebub to return. They were gone for a minute, then two. The darkness was closing in on him. His back prickled with pain. His wings stretched involuntarily and made him gasp and cling to the pillow under his chest. Alone in the darkness, he felt it--the pull of bone and sinew as his Powers were stripped from him. The gaping holes where his wings had been felt like they pierced through his entire body. Pain blossomed and spread and he couldn’t control his two remaining wings. He bit down on a pillow to keep from crying out, growled through the pain.

From out of the darkness and agony, he felt a hand on him--soft over his hair now damp with sweat, down the back of his neck. He heard that buzzing noise, soft and comforting. It felt familiar, like he’d heard it many times in the ages that had passed since he could remember anything clearly.

The demon’s hand moved down his spine and he flinched. Undeterred, Beelzebub’s hand moved over his shoulder blade, followed the tense lines of his muscles above the bloody ruin lower of his back. Fingers worked gradually against the knots, slowly but surely calming his fitful wings.

He could breathe again, with effort. As Beelzebub’s fingers worked across his spine to his other wing, he found his chest rose and fell more slowly.

“Bee…” Gabriel whispered.

“What?” Beelzebub’s tone was as flat and unrelenting as ever. That unchanged tone brought him comfort.

“Can I ask you something?”

“ _ What _ ?” Beelzebub asked sharply, but their hands remained soft.

“Will you stay? Just for tonight?”

“If you’d just fucking drink that, you wouldn’t need me here,” they said and knocked the neck of the wine bottle against Gabriel’s cheek. Beelzebub would still be here, but Gabriel didn’t need to know that.

“I want to feel.”

Beelzebub let out a dismissive snort. “You want it to hurt. Clazzic.”

“If I let you drug me, I wouldn’t be able to feel this.” His tortured frame softened under the demon’s fingers.

Beelzebub’s fingers twitched, but they did not remove them.

Gabriel lifted his hand slowly from the bottle and found Beelzebub’s arm. His limp fingers traced up Beelzebub’s bare arm, then along their collar, clumsy and heavy.

“Zztop, you big oaf,” Beelzebub muttered. “What do you want?”

Gabriel reached blindly for Beelzebub’s pale throat with gentle fingers. The softness of it brought a small smile to his face. “To feel you.”

Beelzebub grabbed the bottle they’d left against the crook of Gabriel’s neck and set it down with a clatter on the bedside table. They shifted and laid down on the bed with a huff, so that Gabriel’s arm rested more comfortably bent on their chest. One arm threaded under Gabriel’s neck and pushed his head closer. The blood had been washed from their fingers, but it would be some time before Beelzebub could get all of it from under their nails.

“Zzatizfied?” They would never, ever admit that they contemplated how this punishment might change Gabriel. Might make him hate them. They would never say they had thought about existence without the archangel Gabriel always annoying them, insisting tender kisses from their compliant lips, seeking out their company. They would never let Gabriel know their own suffering in tending to his broken body that first night, the anger and worry that weighed on them.

Gabriel looked sidelong at Beelzebub now so close to him. He could see the gleam of their pale skin in the darkness, feel the soft, faint curve of their breasts against his arm. It took much less effort now for his hand to find their hair, to turn their stubborn cheek toward himself.

“I--”

“I’m not going to zzay it again,” Beelzebub said sharply.

Gabriel smiled and inched closer. “‘Drink it’?” he asked.

“I’m not going to say ‘I love you’ ever again. Zzo get it out of your head.”

Gabriel grinned, and it turned into a grimace. It was painful for Beelzebub to say it--and that pain was now etched across his back. “I know.”

Beelzebub exhaled, then leaned into Gabriel and kissed him.  
  



	5. Get Well Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale absolves some of his guilt over Gabriel's fate by dropping by to bring some 'get well soon' gifts. Beelzebub barely tolerates his presence and very nearly destroys him for talking about _feelings_.

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” Aziraphale said as he poked his head in the open window on the passenger side of the Bentley.

“Better be,” Crowley grumbled, eyes narrowed with scorn at the posh street. “You got everything?” he asked and peered over his glasses to check the interior.

Aziraphale juggled the items in his arms with a crinkle of cellophane. “I think I’ve got everything.” He smiled. Crowley had grumbled the whole way about getting Gabriel a few tokens to ease his recovery, but because it was what Aziraphale wanted, he made sure it got done right. Or at least made sure Aziraphale didn’t leave anything intended for that insufferable angel behind.

“Hey.” Crowley called Aziraphale back before he turned to enter the high-rise. “Don’t pester him too much, alright?”

Aziraphale blinked at Crowley.

Crowley shifted in his seat. “It’s rough, y’know. Getting punished.” He turned away, resolute not to show any actual concern over Gabriel. “He might wanna be left alone.”

Aziraphale softened and smiled. “I understand,” he said sweetly. “Thank you.”

Crowley revved the engine and Aziraphale hopped back from the curb before the Bentley whizzed off to find some less conspicuous place to park.

Aziraphale craned his neck to look up at the enormous tower of sparkling penthouses and suites, then took a breath to put a smile on his face before he walked inside. He thanked the doorman, tickled by the old-fashioned high-class sensibility of his very existence. Inside, everything was so modern and glittering, he nearly got lost in the lobby on the way to the elevator.

He found himself fretting again as he stood in the elevator alone. A pang of guilt had lingered in his chest ever since he had read about Gabriel’s trial. There was no way he could have known that his innocent offer of help would have ended with such tragedy, but that did not make him feel any better. Crowley kept insisting that Gabriel wasn’t his problem--but they were old colleagues, at the very least. At the hint of Gabriel dabbling in things of questionable nature, he should have given him advice. Warned him of the danger, reminded him that he was not above the law of Heaven, told him what it had cost  _ him  _ to be with the one he loved…

He sighed heavily as he walked down the hallway and clutched his gifts close to his chest. Perhaps this was all silly. Gabriel might really blame him, and what did he come bearing? Sympathy flowers and a few paltry gifts? Crowley had told him it was silly. Sure, the demon had relented that it was thoughtful of him, but only after Aziraphale gave him a fretful look.

Once he was before the door, it took him a moment to rearrange the burden in his arms so he could knock at the door. Then, the anxiety really sank in.

Beelzebub’s concentration was broken by a knock at the door. They looked up and glared at the door. Who the hell was knocking on Gabriel’s door? It wasn’t like the angel had any friends. Not anymore. Maybe it was some mortal maintenance worker or something. They ignored it.

After a moment, there was another knock. Again, Beelzebub tried to shoo them away with a glare.

“Gabriel?” They heard a voice from the other side. With a roll of their eyes, Beelzebub muttered to themself, “Go away.” Then the doorknob rattled. Rising irritably, Beelzebub stormed over to the door and threw it open. “Get--” They stopped short as they saw the traitorous angel standing there.

Of all the things Aziraphale had steeled himself for, Beelzebub answering the door was not one of them. Especially not wearing a conspicuously lavender turtleneck and glasses. The door just as quickly slammed in his face. “Oh--” He frowned.

Beelzebub swiftly changed their attire to something more suitable to be seen in, and reopened the door. “What do you want?” they snapped at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale smiled with relief when the door reopened, albeit tainted with hesitation. He didn’t know whether to be happy or worried that Beelzebub was here. But… had that been Gabriel’s sweater they were wearing just a moment ago? He could swear he felt just a little bit of love in this place.

“Ah, hello, Beelzebub.”

“That’s  _ Lord  _ Beelzebub to you, traitor.”

Aziraphale forced a warm smile. “L-Lord Beelzebub,” he corrected himself awkwardly. “Well, I… I heard about Gabriel…”

“I bet you did,” Beelzebub sneered.

Aziraphale looked put out. “Now, listen, I was as furious as anyone when I read what they put in the  _ Celestial Observer. _ Really, the extent of detail was--”

“ _ Why  _ are you  _ here _ ?” Beelzebub growled. It was only then that they noticed Aziraphale’s arms were laden. Flowers in cellophane, a couple books, and some bundle.

Aziraphale huffed. “Is Gabriel here? I wanted to see how he’s getting on.” Honest worry flooded his eyes.

Beelzebub studied him with a critical eye. “He’zz sleeping.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale shifted from one foot to the other. “Can I come in, please? Just for a moment.”

Beelzebub scowled, but relented. They turned on their heel and left the door open.

Aziraphale brightened and let himself in gingerly. He closed the door carefully and took in the lavish apartment. “Very posh,” he mused with a smile. It certainly suited the archangel Gabriel--or, perhaps, just the  _ angel  _ Gabriel, now. He gravitated toward the marble island in the kitchen and saw another gift basket there. “Oh, have others come by?” Aziraphale was heartened by the idea--perhaps there really were some other progressive thinkers who supported Gabriel despite his alleged transgressions.

Beelzebub turned to look at what Aziraphale meant. Their eyes narrowed and they walked over to look at the gift basket. It had the stink of Heaven all over it. With a sudden fit of fury, Beelzebub snatched up the basket and marched across the expansive apartment to the balcony. Aziraphale watched in shock as the Lord of Hell chucked the gift basket off the balcony.

“No,” Beelzebub muttered as they slammed the balcony door behind them hard enough to rattle the panes of glass.

Aziraphale cleared his throat quietly. “I’ll just… put these flowers in a vase, then, shall I?” he asked in a small voice.

Beelzebub stalked back toward the couch and eyed the flowers. “He’zz not fucking dead,” they sneered. “Lillies are for funerals.”

Aziraphale paused in his timid perusal for an appropriate vessel to put the flowers in. “And for christenings,” he offered gently.

Beelzebub shot him a look.

“N-new beginnings,” he clarified.

Beelzebub let out a snort and sank in the couch. The low table in front of the couch was a mess of paperwork that had a distinctive rotten egg smell. “... He’ll like them,” Beelzebub muttered. “Even if they are a flower of mourning.”

“I didn’t come here to mourn anything,” Aziraphale assured the Lord of Hell. He thought it sweet that Beelzebub knew Gabriel would like the flowers. Aziraphale found the cabinets were well stocked with typical human paraphernalia, and without too much trouble found a fine crystal vase. “However, I do know a thing or two about becoming estranged from one’s home…”

Beelzebub didn’t want to admit that Aziraphale was the singular angel they wouldn’t destroy in the current circumstances. He didn’t even have the stink of holiness and Heaven about him anymore. He almost felt human; no longer distinctly good or bad.

Aziraphale quietly snipped the stems of the bouquet just as Crowley had instructed him to, under running water. He then arranged them in the vase and removed the cellophane.

The crinkling noise irritated Beelzebub as they attempted to return to their work.

“You’re here taking care of him.” Aziraphale walked into the living room and sat in a chair across from the prince of Hell.

A growl rumbled in Beelzebub’s throat as they leered at the traitor. “What’zz it to you?”

Aziraphale smiled brightly. “That’s very kind of you.”

Beelzebub frowned. “Thozze angelzz botched his wingzz,” they growled, resolutely staring at the paperwork. They didn’t see the pages before them--they were seeing red again, fingers twitching irritably.

Aziraphale frowned in sympathy. “It’s a horrible punishment… Hardly,” he winced, “merciful.”

“Merciful,” Beelzebub sneered. “Those bastardzz were ready to Cazzt him Out.”

“But,” Aziraphale sighed, “by the  _ mercy  _ of God…”

“Mercy, nothing! I was the only one who came to his defenzze! If it weren’t for me--” Beelzebub stopped short and bottled up the rest of their admission.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “You…?” he asked softly. “You… you were at the trial?”

Beelzebub scowled and shot themself back into the couch. A nasty smirk twisted their lips. “Oh, the  _ Celestial Observer  _ didn’t mention that? The fucking Lord of Hell in their midst?”

Aziraphale shook his head slowly.

“Yezz, I went to their sorry excuzze for a trial. Their minds were already made up. Who in Heaven gives a shit if an angel actzz out of love?”

Aziraphale kept himself carefully quiet, hands folded around the books in his lap.

Beelzebub stared at the neat little angel, then scoffed and reached for the box of cigarettes at the corner of the table. They lit one out of spite.

Aziraphale glanced at the pack and smiled. “May I have one?”

Beelzebub stopped short of slapping the pack back down. Confusion softened their gaze, and they extended the pack toward the polite angel.

Aziraphale took one and lit it with a minor miracle. After a deep puff, he sighed. “I gave these up ages ago, but… It really hits the spot right about now.”

Beelzebub settled back into the couch slowly.

“So… I suppose Gabriel succeeded in finding your love language?” Aziraphale asked before delicately putting the cigarette to his lips.

Beelzebub choked on their cigarette and heaved forward to the edge of the couch. “How do you know about that?” they snapped.

Aziraphale’s smile saddened. “Gabriel visited me. Shortly after we were all summoned to Adam’s birthday.”

Beelzebub stared at Aziraphale, their eyes wild. “... Thizz izz all your fault.”

The sadness in Aziraphale’s gaze deepened. “I’m afraid so.”

The demon jumped to their feet. “You put those zztupid ideazz in his head!”

Aziraphale took a deep breath from his cigarette, avoiding Beelzebub’s furious gaze.

“If you had just minded your own goddamn biznezz--” The papers on the table between demon and angel started to smoke and smoulder, filling the air with the acrid smell of brimstone. “You… you’re alwayzz meddling!”

“I had no intention of--” Aziraphale breathed. “I didn’t realize--”

“You didn’t realize what a fucking idiot he is?” Beelzebub boomed.

“I didn’t realize you would fall for him,” Aziraphale said in a small voice, looking up at the prince of Hell looming toward him dangerously.

Beelzebub looked set to rain Hellfire upon him, hackles raised against a shroud of ominous shadow. The papers had burned to cinders on the table. After a beat, Beelzebub sank back onto the couch and hung their head in their hands.

Aziraphale looked on with pity. “It must be very hard for you.”

“Demonzz aren’t wired for love,” Beelzebub muttered.

“Neither are angels. Not  _ that  _ kind of love.”

“I lied to him. That’zz what started it all.”

“Have you told him you lied…?”

“Yezz.” Beelzebub folded their arms across their knees, shoulders jutted up toward their ears.

Aziraphale relaxed and smiled sweetly at Beelzebub. “If he forgave you, sounds like true love.”

Beelzebub scowled at the floor. “Phanuel seemed to think zzo.”

The angel looked startled. “Wh-whatever do you mean?”

“That was what tipped the scales,” Beelzebub said quietly. “Phanuel azzked me if I loved Gabriel. I said yezz.” The demon frowned. “But I don’t love him. Not the way he lovezz me.”

Aziraphale’s heart felt too large for his chest and he clutched at the books in his lap. He was overflowing. “I imagine… you love him the way he wants to be loved.”

Beelzebub snorted and ran their hand into their hair, gripping a fistful. “It lookzz nothing like love.”

“Love works in mysterious ways,” Aziraphale said sweetly.

Beelzebub shot him with a disgusted look.

“Well? Do you deny it?”

Beelzebub grumbled and glanced over their shoulder in the direction of the bedroom door, beyond which an angel lay mutilated for their devotion to the one they were forsaken for loving. They spared Aziraphale another glance, then hung their head again.

“I brought a few things for him…” Aziraphale said gently. He rose with halting motion, filled with trepidation of stepping on Beelzebub’s tender heart.

Beelzebub glanced up as Aziraphale gently put down a book on one of the uncharred corners of the low table. “ _ Healing After Loss _ ? Is that… a fucking self-help book?”

Aziraphale’s face pinched with a shy smile. “It was… difficult losing my place in the world after everything. Even though I had conviction in my actions…” The angel wilted under Beelzebub’s withering look. “Imagine how difficult it will be for him! He was in charge of… of everything between Heaven and Earth, and now…” He hesitated to go on.

Beelzebub stared hard at Aziraphale for a long moment. They hated that the angel was right. Even when Gabriel’s physical wounds healed, there were sure to be emotional ones connected to his devotion to the work he had spent his existence upon. Just the thought of it made Beelzebub feel as though they had thousands of angry bees swarming in their gut. They forced out a sigh and looked away.

“Also…” Aziraphale placed another book down with renewed cheeriness. “Just a little something to help him get settled…”

Beelzebub groaned as they looked at the next offering. “A  _ Zagat  _ restaurant guide? Really?”

“ _ You  _ like food, don’t you?” The angel hugged the last present to his chest. “No need to see Earth as a prison. Once he’s feeling a little better, you could take him out--”

“Zzhut up.” Beelzebub shut their eyes. “I do not want dating advice from you, traitor.”

Aziraphale gave Beelzebub a knowing look with raised brows. It should have been no secret by now that despite being shut out of Heaven, this angel was living in practical matrimonial bliss with the similarly-excommunicated demon he loved.

“Can you leave?” Beelzebub moaned. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“Just one last little thing.” Aziraphale gingerly put down a bundle of soft, heather-colored cloth. “It’s just a silly little thing. A human thing. But it might be more comfortable than his usual clothes.”

“What is it?” Beelzebub asked, defeated.

“A housecoat. Tailored so that Gabriel can wear it without hiding his wings.”

Beelzebub scowled. “It’ll end up covered in blood. He’ll be bleeding for a century from those wounds.”

Aziraphale paled. “Oh.” He withdrew and fidgeted. “Well…” He tried to smile.

“Get out,” Beelzebub muttered.

“Alright.” His shoulders sank. “You’ll… let him know that I came by? And- and that he can call me anytime. Shall I--”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Aziraphale shrank with a quiet sigh. “Well. Thank you for taking care of him, Lord Beelzebub.” He managed a smile.

The Lord of Hell looked up at him with a warning look.

“Good day,” Aziraphale said politely, and saw himself out.

Beelzebub sighed in relief. They stared at the little pile of presents. Get well gifts. How  _ native. _ They didn’t know how to feel about someone--anyone--showing concern about Gabriel’s well being. Were they supposed to do that? Show concern more openly? Why should they bother? Wasn’t it obvious that they were concerned? They spent hours every day cleaning Gabriel’s gaping wounds, gradually picking out the scapular feathers that stuck out like tortured pins from his flesh. They tried to keep him numb and comfortable while his body was healing.

Beelzebub found their feet under them and walking toward Gabriel’s bedroom unbidden. They pushed the door open another couple inches and leaned against the doorframe. The angel was still, arms folded around the pillow under his chest, head hung in his usual pose. His wings were rarely still; now and again, they would twitch, sometimes in tandem with a muscle of Gabriel’s handsome brow.

“Did I hear Aziraphale’s voice?” Gabriel asked quietly. 

Beelzebub gave a start and almost bolted back to the living room. They gripped the doorframe with white knuckles and stilled their tense muscles. “... Yeah.”

“He heard about the trial, I suppose.”

“Yeah.”

“Did he come to gloat?”

Beelzebub could hear the grin in Gabriel’s voice, but they wanted to see it. Slowly, they walked into the room and stood on the far side of the bed. Lavender eyes greeted him with a brightness dulled by pain and the opiates meant to combat that pain. Still, it was a brightness reserved only for them. It made them feel weird, to have anyone look at them like that. Gabriel had looked at them like that for a while, now, even before the trial and all the shit. Beelzebub only realized it later.

“No.”

“Hm?”

Beelzebub shifted their weight with a resigned sigh. “He came by with flowers,” they growled.

Gabriel lifted his head some and looked genuinely surprised. “Flowers?”

“Fucking lilies. Like it’zz a goddamn funeral.”

“I like lilies,” Gabriel said softly and smiled.

Beelzebub glared at him, then turned on their heel with a huff. A moment later, they reappeared with the bouquet and slammed it down on the bedside table, nearly upsetting the modern lamp there.

“How nice.”

Beelzebub glowered at the flowers. They took a peek at the soft look on Gabriel’s face and let out another little sigh. “He brought a couple other thingzz, too.”

“Oh?” Gabriel propped himself up a bit more with a wince.

Beelzebub frowned and went to retrieve the rest of the stupid presents the stupid angel had brought. They nearly just tossed them at Gabriel, but restrained themself. Instead, they sat on the edge of the bed and handed them over.

Gabriel looked curiously at the books, his brow creased in bemused wonder. “That Aziraphale. He  _ is  _ strange.”

Beelzebub cracked a smile at that. “That’s putting it mildly. I mean, for fuck’s sake, you don’t even like food.”

Gabriel chuckled. “And a… self-help book?” He smiled dubiously at the cover. “Written by humans? I mean, really.”

Beelzebub relaxed enough to choke out a laugh of their own. “And he tried to give me  _ relationship  _ advice,” they scoffed.

This gave Gabriel pause and he looked up. “What did he say?”

Beelzebub stiffened again, a nervous buzz in their throat. Their cheeks colored and they avoided those curious eyes. “Nothing,” they grumbled. Well, that was an obvious evasion. They had been stupid enough to bring it up. “He… he said… I should… take you out… sometime…”

A smile crept onto Gabriel’s lips. “I’d like that,” he said quietly.

Beelzebub scowled at him through heated cheeks and a menacing look.

“You like food. I would eat gross matter for you.”

“You don’t have to do anything for me!” Beelzebub snapped.

“Well, I may not know much, but I do know that it would look odd if we were to go out together and you were the only one eating.”

The blush spread across Beelzebub’s cheeks. “We’re not going out! I’m not--”

“It’s fine.” Gabriel settled down into the pillow. “I doubt I’ll be going anywhere for a while.”

Beelzebub frowned.

“What is this?” he asked as he lifted up the bundle of cloth.

The demon’s lip pulled up in derision. “He’s really gone native.” Gabriel gave him a confused look. The demon snatched the robe from Gabriel and hopped off the bed to shake it out and present it. “It’s a… robe. Or something. I don’t know. He said it might be more comfortable.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed in thought. “More comfortable than…?”

“I told you--I don’t know.” Beelzebub shrugged and tossed the robe back to the bed.

“You should try it on,” Gabriel said brightly.

“No.” Beelzebub narrowed their eyes.

“What, not your color?” he teased.

The demon’s eyes flared dangerously.

“I’ve seen you wearing my sweater. It suits you.”

Beelzebub looked fit to explode. “When?!” They scrambled onto the bed and shoved Gabriel’s head down with both hands. “You’re supposed to be zzleeping! How are you going to ever stop being so fucking uselezz if you don’t rest?!” they growled.

“Ow- ow- you’re hurting me,” Gabriel struggled out between muffled laughter.

“I could knock you out the old fashioned way, Gabriel,” they threatened and wound a skinny arm under Gabriel’s throat. “Body azz weak azz this, I bet you’d pazz out if I zztrangled you.”

Gabriel tapped the tense arm around his throat. “I give, I give,” he begged in a weak voice.

Beelzebub let up some of the pressure on Gabriel’s neck. “The arrangement izzz,” they buzzed in a low voice, “ _ you  _ zztay out cold during the day so I can get my fucking work done and don’t have to babysit you constantly, you worthlezz shit, and  _ I  _ stay here at night so you don’t have a fit with all your pitiful nightmarezz.”

“And I’m very grateful,” Gabriel said earnestly and squeezed the threatening blade of an arm against his throat.

“Damn right you are,” Beelzebub spat.

“But while I have you here…” Gabriel moved with a swiftness that caused his back to scream in pain, but was rewarded by hooking Beelzebub around the waist and dragging them down to the bed. 

Despite his weakened state, Gabriel was still strong enough to catch the prince off guard for a moment and grapple them to the bed. “Bastard--let me go.” Beelzebub thrashed against Gabriel’s side for a moment.

“I didn’t get my wings ripped out so you would stay at arm’s length from me.”

Beelzebub surrendered. “I  _ hate  _ cuddling.”

“Well, I’m not good for much else right now, am I?” Gabriel said against Beelzebub’s ear.

“I have work to do.”

“I know.” Gabriel honestly did not want to keep the Lord of Hell from their work. But being bedridden was wearing on him. He rarely saw the light of day except in painful flashes when he woke up between doses, and even more rarely saw Beelzebub except for the dead of night, when they would sit there with him and protect him from the horrible visions that haunted the darkness. “Just a few minutes.”

“You’re going to feel like Hell in a few minutes.”

“Then just stay with me until it’s too much.”

“For you or for me?” Beelzebub couldn’t help a smirk. “It’s already insufferable.”

“Are you going to start screaming in agony?”

“In a minute,” Beelzebub quipped.

Gabriel stole that smirk in a kiss. Beelzebub’s lips were firm and unforgiving at first, but softened gradually. There was truly something cosmic about kissing them, a spark of forbidden hellfire, a poison that healed in small doses, that might prove ultimately fatal.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is now fanart of [Beelzebub wearing Gabriel's sweater](https://twitter.com/sinnernuggetfan/status/1187598573413769218?s=20) and I'm so soft!! 😭


	6. Dreaming of Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub guards Gabriel from his nightmares, but can't guard against their feelings anymore.

“You’re late.”

Beelzebub cringed at the sound of Gabriel’s small voice. “You know it’zz not eazzy for me to come up here.” The Dark Council was breathing down their neck, sending them countless memos about progress now that Gabriel had returned to Earth. It had only been a few weeks since they had cornered Beelzebub in Hell and Lucifer had made his wishes known. Beelzebub had told them to mind their own fucking business and let them work. All in due time.

Gabriel let out a shaky sigh. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Beelzebub navigated the dark bedroom easily. They kicked off their boots, then unfastened their broach, placing it with their sash on the bedside table. After shrugging off their coat, they climbed onto the bed. They could feel Gabriel trembling.

“Nightmare?” the Lord of Hell asked quietly.

Gabriel reached out for Beelzebub blindly. With a sigh, the prince gave him their hand.

“I never slept before. I never dreamed. Now all I have are these nightmares…” Gabriel squeezed Beelzebub’s hand hard.

“Part of your punishment, I’m sure,” Beelzebub sneered.

“I see those horrible masks…”

“Cowardzz. Wouldn’t even show their facezz,” Beelzebub muttered. The images that haunted Gabriel’s nightmares were familiar to them by now. The Lord of Hell came to ward off the fearsome angels that lurked in Gabriel’s tortured mind every night. At first, Beelzebub had scoffed at the thought, but after they had come to check on him and found him a haggard, bloody mess in the wake of a particularly harrowing nightmare… It was better to quell the nightmares before they could do further damage to the injured angel.

“Awful, gaudy harlequin masks with… with these big grins. Golden robes drenched in blood. This… dripping sound. Blood dripping.  _ My  _ blood…”

Beelzebub stared out into the darkness and let Gabriel talk.

“I can’t tell if it’s me screaming, or a thousand other punished souls. Almost can’t hear the sound of bones snapping…” Gabriel swallowed hard. “And thrashing--my wings just beating like…”

“Like a caged bird,” Beelzebub intoned quietly.

Gabriel sniffed. “Bee?”

The Lord of Hell closed their eyes as their fingers gave an irritated twitch in Gabriel’s.

“Will you sit closer?”

Beelzebub sighed and shifted over so their thigh brushed against Gabriel’s shivering frame. The angel wrapped an arm around their hips and moved his head into their lap.

“I feel it all over again. It’s so… vivid.” Gabriel’s solitary pair of wings fluttered and his fingers dug into Beelzebub’s hip. “Do you ever think about… about your Fall?” he asked quietly.

Beelzebub frowned. Their hand ended up on Gabriel’s head by its own volition. “Not really any of your biznezz.”

“Do you have nightmares?” Gabriel pressed on.

“Not anymore, no,” Beelzebub said.

“How long did it take for the nightmares to stop?”

“I ztopped needing to sleep.”

“Oh.”

Silence poured into the room like a fog. Beelzebub ran their fingers through Gabriel’s hair. Since when had they cared about Gabriel’s comfort? Why did they keep coming? The princes of Hell knew Beelzebub was still grooming Gabriel for his inevitable Fall. They didn’t know that Beelzebub came to protect Gabriel from his nightmares, to listen to him talk about the horrible visions that came to him. Beelzebub felt responsible. But they didn’t feel guilt. Without any formal agreement, Gabriel had made a pact with them. Was this love? A pact of suffering and intimacy?

“I don’t think about Falling anymore,” Beelzebub said. “I didn’t consciously think of it after it happened. I focuzzed on the hatred. The culpability of Heaven, of God, of all you who Cast us Out. But I had nightmarezz. When we were all maimed, half-formed ghoulzz of suffering…”

Gabriel pressed closer to his beloved. It was a strange thing to love Beelzebub so fervently, but feel no remorse for Casting them Out.

“It was no smooth tranzzition into Hell. God ripped uzz apart. Every fiber. Made zzure we would zzuffer as we Fell from Grace. We ztill had some of our powerzz. But to be torn apart, zzo close to obliviation… It took uzz a while to zzort out our new infernal formzz… Some of uzz never managed. Gressil…” Beelzebub trailed off and stared dispassionately into the distance.

“Go on,” Gabriel said quietly as he stroked Beelzebub’s hip.

The Lord of Hell glanced down at Gabriel. Was he enjoying this? He must want to hear about the consequences of Heaven’s retribution. He must remember the glory of Casting Out the dissenters, but want to hear about the gnashing of teeth and rendering of flesh and bone. “You’re sick,” Beelzebub muttered.

“I don’t enjoy your suffering,” Gabriel argued.

“Why do you want to hear about it, then?” Beelzebub’s fingers tightened in Gabriel’s hair.

“I wonder what would have happened…”

“If you Fell? I would have dezztroyed you, for one.”

“Really?” Gabriel’s voice was small and fragile. “You find me so… insufferable?”

Beelzebub scowled into the darkness and raked their nails through Gabriel’s hair. “Intolerable. I can’t stand you.”

Gabriel frowned and shrank against the demon.

Beelzebub felt a pang of… something. It was a totally unfamiliar feeling and they didn’t know how to place it or even what to call the emotion that came over them. They ran their fingers over Gabriel’s head and down his neck. “... I don’t mind you, zzometimezz.”

Gabriel moved their arm from around Beelzebub’s hips and reached for their hand, dragging it to his lips. “Please…” he whispered, “give me something…”

The weakness of Gabriel’s voice broke something in Beelzebub. “I’m here, aren’t I?” they snapped. “What more do you want?”

“Say you don’t hate me.”

Beelzebub let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t hate you, Gabriel. For Satan’zz sake.”

“Would it kill you to say you love me?”

“Yezz. Yezz, it would kill me.”

Gabriel sighed.

“I’m the fucking Lord of Hell. What do you expect?”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to lie to you?”

“You told Phanuel that you loved me! Why can’t you say it to my face?” Gabriel suddenly boomed and gripped Beelzebub’s hand tight.

“Becauzze I can’t!” Beelzebub shouted back.

Both angel and demon remained tense.

Beelzebub was the first to relent. “It’zz againzzt my nature to…”

“It’s against my fucking nature to love you, but I didn’t try to deny it. I got my powers stripped. I got my wings ripped out. And what of you?” Gabriel snapped.

Beelzebub’s fingers tightened around Gabriel’s. “There izz… something about you…”

“Spit it out.”

“Fuck off, Archangel.”

“Not an Archangel anymore.”

Beelzebub opened their mouth to spit more venom back, but was struck silent. Gabriel had not argued for his innocence. He could have told Phanuel that Beelzebub lied to him, that they tricked him and it was all a terrible mistake. But no. Honest angel that he was, Gabriel had proclaimed his true feelings, and accepted the punishment for it. He was brave--braver than Beelzebub themself.

“How could it be love?” Beelzebub asked in a small voice. “That was zztripped away from me when I Fell.”

“Why couldn’t it be? You were an angel once.”

Beelzebub snorted. “And I’m the Lord of Hell now.”

“Why do you keep coming?” Gabriel demanded. “Don’t tell me you feel guilty, because I know that’s not true.” He let go of Beelzebub’s hand and planted a fist in the bed, slowly pushing himself up.

“Zztop,” Beelzebub growled.

Gabriel’s face twisted in pain as he dragged himself up to sit.

“You’re juzzt going to make it worzze.”

It was good advice. Everything hurt that much worse as he rose up from the bed. He grit his teeth against his protesting nerves, and forced himself up until he was sitting.

Beelzebub could see Gabriel’s profile in the darkness. He looked ravaged, his hair swept askew, his chiseled body tense and tight on high alert, and those two lonely wings quivering at odd angles.

“And why do you care?” Gabriel growled. “Stop… pretending. Stop acting like you don’t feel anything. You get a kick out of shoving me down, making me feel unimportant, denying my feelings--well, I can’t deal with that right now.”

Beelzebub felt small as Gabriel loomed over them, his tortured wings trembling behind him.

“Just tell me I’m not suffering for nothing. Please.”

The demon scowled at Gabriel and hated how those lavender eyes pierced them.

“ _ Please. _ ”

“Alright. Fine. I love you. Againzzt my better judgement,” Beelzebub snapped.

Gabriel’s tense shoulders relaxed gratefully. He smiled, and Beelzebub felt their face grow hot. It was that stupid, dopey smile Gabriel got when he was feeling especially sweet on the Lord of Hell.

“You’re blushing.”

“Fuck off. No, I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“You’re fucking pushing it, Arch--” Beelzebub stopped themself short and looked away from Gabriel. “Sorry,” they muttered.

“You’re the only one who will call me that, now,” Gabriel said wistfully.

“... Sorry.” It was easier to say in the darkness.

“Are you?” Gabriel asked.

“... Sort of.”

“Good enough for me.” Gabriel smiled. “Will you say it again?”

Beelzebub groaned.

“Just  _ once  _ more. With feeling,” Gabriel whispered.

Beelzebub writhed with displeasure. “I… love you.”

Gabriel took Beelzebub’s face in his hands and kissed them sweetly.

“It’s not…” Beelzebub frowned at Gabriel. “It’s not the zzame azz how you feel…”

“Don’t ruin it,” Gabriel said softly.

Beelzebub looked up at Gabriel, brow wrought with confusion. “Why doezz it matter to hear me zzay it when you know full well I don’t feel the zzame way you do?”

“Because it still means something. That you’ll say it.”

“You really are an idiot.”

“An idiot for you,” Gabriel said as he cupped Beelzebub’s cheeks.

Beelzebub groaned and squinted at the angel. “Zzince you’re up…” they muttered, steering the conversation away from things they did not wish to dwell on. “Let me change your bandagezz.”

Gabriel sat back and smiled at the Lord of Hell. He knew better than to point out the tenderness of the act. Not once had he asked for Beelzebub’s help, but the demon kept showing up. Surely they didn’t feel guilty. Acting out of obligation didn’t fit Beelzebub’s brand. Even if the Lord of Hell claimed they experienced love differently, their actions spoke louder than words.

Beelzebub turned away from that soft smile and shuffled off the bed. They went through the familiar motions of preparing a makeshift operating space. In the past weeks, Beelzebub had cleaned Gabriel’s wounds and changed his bandages countless times. Gabriel was able to help by sitting on the edge of the bed and fold his arms behind his head, unlike the many times Beelzebub had to wrestle his limp form to remove and reapply the bandages.

The demon felt wary of Gabriel watching him. They could feel the warmth of his gaze soft on them. To combat this, they crawled back onto the bed and began unwinding the bandages from behind Gabriel.

Holding his arms up sent sharp lances of pain down his tense muscles, but Gabriel managed to keep his trembling to a minimum as Beelzebub unwound the bloodstained bandages from around his torso. He hissed as Beelzebub peeled the innermost bandages stuck to his bloody flesh. The Ultor had done a surgical job of removing all the connecting bone, but where the joints had joined with his spine were gaping holes that still oozed. The disconnected tissue made unsightly lumps on the angel’s previously sculpted back.

“How’s it look?” Gabriel asked through gritted teeth.

“Zztill lookz like shit,” Beelzebub muttered. “How’zz it feel?”

“About like that,” he said with forced lightness in his tone.

Beelzebub reached for into the large bowl of water they had prepared for a rag and wrung it out tightly. With gentle precision, they cleaned around the wounds. Gabriel fought to keep still, but Beelzebub could feel his breath growing labored with pain. One deft hand slid up Gabriel’s spine and smoothed over the shivering joint of a wing. Beelzebub silently rubbed at the uninjured wing in some attempt to soothe Gabriel.

Gabriel relaxed in stages. It was impossible for him to completely relax because of the omnipresent pain. He hated taking the pain-dulling cocktail of Beelzebub’s creation that numbed his nerves because it also made his mind foggy. Sometimes it made it more difficult to separate the nightmares from reality. Sometimes he knew Beelzebub was there, but was too senseless to say or do anything about it. But in comparison to the agony of feeling the torture of his body, it was a small blessing.

“Zzhould clean your wingzz,” Beelzebub murmured. “If you can bear it.”

Gabriel let out a shaky sigh. “I’d like that…” He slowly lowered his arms and rolled his shoulders. He stopped short mid-way through the motion with a grunt.

Beelzebub looked up at the back of Gabriel’s head and could see tension in the cord of his neck, the roll of a muscle in his jaw. They recognized the pain. The agony of Falling was a distant memory, but one did not forget the pain caused by mere existence, an eternity of lashings, searing white-hot pain. Gabriel did not suffer so horribly, but was forced to heal without any celestial assistance. His recovery would take years, a slow, drawn-out agony.

The demon shifted to the edge of the bed and quickly went off with the bowl of now black water. Gabriel didn’t need to see the gore that came from his back. “Lie down.” Beelzebub shot over their shoulder as they left the room for fresh water.

Gabriel turned and found the tangle of spent bandages that had come from his back. Still so much blood… He wondered how long he would bleed and ooze, how long it would take before he could move again without the constant reminder. The pain sat in the stead of the unsettling lightness on his back; he couldn’t think too much on the missing weight of his wings. But the pain did not erase the special torment of a phantom feeling of wings still there, still beating desperately out of the cold, merciless hands of the Ultor.

He dropped the bandages to the floor and tried not to think about the ruin of his back. (An impossible task, but Gabriel was tenacious, if nothing else.) Gabriel returned to the position he had spent the better part of a month in--lying on his stomach, pillow pulled under his shoulders, his neck arched as his head hung, and waited for Beelzebub to return.

  
  



	7. Black Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub cleans Gabriel's wings, and he is more into the pain than expected.

Beelzebub returned with a bowl of fresh water and set it on the night stand quietly. They crept onto the bed and moved into the familiar position straddled over Gabriel’s lower back, comfortably seated on that generous rump. Although Gabriel had only been swathed in sheets since he was dumped back on Earth, Beelzebub hardly found themself looking at him in a sexual way. The agony he was in held little allure for the demon, despite their usual proclivities.

The Lord of Hell ran their fingers over one of Gabriel’s wings, soothing it to a still, resting position. Despite the spiky tension of Gabriel’s body and the state of his punished back, his feathers were still utterly soft around the downy converts, the primaries and secondaries sleek and strong. Beelzebub had little experience with touching any wings other than their own, celestial or occult. Even in the time they had been caring for Gabriel, they had hardly touched his actual wings. Gabriel’s wings were objectively magnificent, even in their frenetic state. 

The demon had become intimately familiar with the angel’s wings over the past weeks, but their attention had been perfunctory, avoiding hurting them further. Under this different kind of scrutiny, Beelzebub noticed the way in which Gabriel’s wings differed from their own. His wing span was almost twice their own, and the feathers gleamed where they hadn’t been dulled with distress or speckled with blood. Closest to his spine, the scapulars were matted and blackened with blood. It was an odd color of black, like rust. Beelzebub took the damp rag and lay it over where the blood had coagulated and dried, agitating the stiff clumps of feathers. They experienced a strange prideful drive to return Gabriel’s wings to their rightful glory.

Gabriel tensed and gripped tightly at the pillow. His wing twitched and arched in protest. Beelzebub watched the fraction of Gabriel’s face that they could see. “If it’zz too much…”

“No. I want you to,” Gabriel whispered, afraid that if he spoke too loudly, this spell of audible concern from the Lord of Hell would be broken. “They must be filthy…”

“Not too bad,” Beelzebub muttered generously. They left the rag where it was and instead ran their hand along the strong arch of bone, away from the center of pain. Their fingers carded through the softest feathers and Gabriel let out a little sigh. Beelzebub smiled, despite themself; it was always easier to allow themself these small smiles when Gabriel couldn’t see. To be able to give Gabriel even the faintest of pleasure after these endless days of torture lightened the weight they hadn’t even realized they’d been carrying. Pain was just a useless lever without the fulcrum of pleasure to drive it.

“Never had anyone do this before…” Gabriel murmured. Beelzebub’s tender touch felt unfamiliar, like a threat for the inevitable pain that would follow. The demon had treated him with such a soft touch since he had returned from Third Heaven, but Gabriel still sometimes feared that the axe was about to fall. There had been tender moments during their courtship before their relationship had been discovered, but they were few and far between. 

But Gabriel trusted Beelzebub. In their own way, they had built that foundation before his punishment by the Ultor, and cemented it by coming to his rescue at the trial, being here and tending to his ruined body. It was his body that betrayed him, now lanced with memories of torture and true agony, fearful of the powerlessness thrust upon him in Third Heaven.

Beelzebub’s fingers grazed over the long, broad feathers that fanned out, taking care to straighten them. “Never? That’zz a long time of never.”

“Who would I let touch my wings?” he asked with an indignant snort.

“Pride is a sin, Archangel,” Beelzebub said in a low growl.

“Not pride. Privacy.” Gabriel was quiet for a moment, sinking into the gentle touch of his beloved’s fingers on his feathers. He could almost ignore the pain, just for a moment; briefly, truly believe that it wouldn’t hurt. “It’s… intimate.”

“And you haven’t been intimate with anyone? Not anyone ever in six thousand years?”

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder at the smirking prince. “I would have thought that was obvious by now.”

“Made up for lost time fast, didn’t you?” Beelzebub said in a sultry tone.

Gabriel smirked. “I had a very alluring teacher.”

Beelzebub rolled their eyes and returned to the tender scapulars. “Hold on tight,” they warned. Taking the rag around the joint of the wing, Beelzebub rubbed at the clotted feathers. Gabriel tensed and sucked in a sharp breath, shoulders arched sharply as the pain reared its head once more. After the lovely sensation of Beelzebub’s fingers combing through his feathers, the sharp reminder of pain came as a surprise. It sparked a reminder not only of the fog of pain he had existed in since his punishment, but, by Beelzebub’s hand, the dark desires the demon had introduced him to. There was a thread of pleasure that remained among the discomfort; that delicious cocktail of pleasure and pain.

Beelzebub moved the rag aside to see if any progress had been made. The caked blood was stubborn. They frowned and stretched toward the bowl of water, rinsed the rag, and wrung it out. “Not gonna be eazzy,” Beelzebub murmured as they replaced the rag and worked the damp into Gabriel’s feathers.

The muscles of Gabriel’s arms tensed and rolled as he grit his teeth. “It’s… alright,” he managed. “If you’ll… keep going. Touching where it doesn’t hurt.” His trust in Beelzebub’s touch deepened, given a taste of both their softness and the returning discomfort. It wasn’t the sharp, horrible pain of torture, but the sickly sweet spikes of pain that promised more pleasure by Beelzebub’s hand.

Beelzebub stroked over the strong bone again, once more calming the tremble. Gabriel had stopped the demon before in his conscious moments when the pain was too great, but the angel seemed more lucid tonight. Beelzebub could only imagine the conflict in Gabriel’s pain-ragged mind. They combed through the long converts and felt Gabriel shift beneath them, the muscles of his arms and back rolling, tensing, then going limp again. “You like it?” they asked quietly.

Gabriel relaxed with a shaky breath. “Yes.”

The demon narrowed their eyes at Gabriel. There was a husky note to his voice, reminiscent of other times. They raked their nails gently through the fluffier secondary converts, and relished in the content murmur from Gabriel as he sank into the bed with a long exhale. While they combed through Gabriel’s feathers, they worked the rag against the scapulars and earned a hiss as Gabriel arched into their touch. The angel’s hips angled toward the bed in what Beelzebub was not convinced was an innocent motion.

As they wiped the rag around Gabriel’s wing joint, the angel shivered. Another rinse, another wring, and they repeated the process. It became apparent that Gabriel was enjoying more than just the tender grooming of his wing, but also the inverse, the needling pain of his tender scapulars.

Once Beelzebub had worked most of the blackened blood from the feathers closest to Gabriel’s flesh, they dipped low and kissed the damp feathers. Gabriel outright moaned, arched, then gasped at the pain that seared through his back.

“Mm… I thought zzo. You’re getting off on thizz,” Beelzebub sneered with a grin.

Gabriel let out a breath of a laugh. “Guilty,” he whispered.

“Fucking mazzochist,” Beelzebub breathed, impressed.

“Your fault,” Gabriel croaked.

“Oh, no, thizz is all on you, archangel.” Beelzebub grinned and leaned down to kiss Gabriel’s spine between his wings. Gabriel’s wings shuddered and he growled, hips rocking toward the mattress. Beelzebub had missed this, Gabriel’s wanton skin was so delicious under their lips. They kissed up his spine, up to his neck. It was the first time in weeks that their lips had explored Gabriel’s skin. They had forgotten how intoxicating that strong frame shivering under their touch had been.

“Beelzebub…” Gabriel whispered as he moved a shaky hand to card through the demon’s hair.

“I’ve zztill got a whole other wing to do.”

Gabriel’s hips rolled down and back up against where Beelzebub was seated. He looked back at the demon from the corner of his eyes, lavender fogged with desire. “Is it alright that I’m… turned on?”

Beelzebub balked. “You don’t need my permizzion for that.” They were surprised that Gabriel was capable of experiencing pleasure at all through the pain, and found themself eager to take advantage of that desire. The demon’s lips melted against the cord of Gabriel’s strong neck, then sank teeth into the tender flesh. Gabriel moaned and tugged at the demon’s hair. “If you lazzt while I do your other wing, I’ll fuck you,” they offered. Gabriel groaned at the thought. Feeling generous, Beelzebub smirked and added, “Even if you come while I’m doing your other wing, I’ll fuck you.”

“Please,” Gabriel whispered. In his current state, he couldn’t help but be submissive and powerless. Beelzebub did not have to exert any extra power over him, and Gabriel couldn’t think of anything more desirable right now than to surrender to the Lord of Hell that had cared for him with silent patience. This was the kind of tenderness he could expect from Beelzebub--and it was enough for him. Anything else wouldn’t be genuine to Beelzebub’s character. It wouldn’t be what he had come to expect and love about his dynamic with the Lord of Hell.

The demon granted Gabriel more lingering, wet kisses along his neck and shoulder. “All you had to do was ask, Gabriel,” they whispered.

Gabriel shuddered and rutted his hips against the bed again, trying to arch his hips back against Beelzebub’s enough to feel their growing arousal. His breath caught as he felt tendrils of pain radiating across his back.

“Don’t ruin that nice erection,” Beelzebub purred. The demon shifted position and sat lower on Gabriel’s body, nestled against his plump rear.

Gabriel relaxed into the bed and bit his lip as he felt his lover’s increasingly obvious arousal pressed against him. It made his cock ache all the more.

Beelzebub tossed the rag back into the water and took a moment to run their finger down Gabriel’s spine, between the gaping wounds left in the wake of his punishment. Gabriel’s moan was twisted in pain, but his body rocked against the mattress all the same to provide the friction his cock craved. The demon retrieved the towel and wrung it out, placing it on the blood-caked feathers of the other wing. The wing shivered, then stretched as Beelzebub ran their fingers through the lesser converts at the crest of his strong wing. As they combed through the long primaries, Beelzebub let their hips grind against Gabriel’s. The angel supplicated his body to his lover, thighs spread to allow him to feel more of Beelzebub’s clothed arousal.

Another pain-laced moan rang from Gabriel as Beelzebub scrubbed the blood from his scapulars while kissing the trembling arch of his wing. Beelzebub was less concerned about getting Gabriel’s wings utterly clean--a Sisyphean task while he was still healing, anyway--and far more interested in riding that line between pleasure and pain that their angel seemed so susceptible to.

Beelzebub made their clothes disappear, eager to feel more of Gabriel’s bare, trembling flesh against their own. Their cock longed to rub between those pert ass cheeks. In no mood to fuck around with comfort and preparation, Beelzebub made sure their cock was nice and slick against Gabriel’s flesh. The angel made the most wonderful sounds as they slid against him.

Gabriel’s body begged for him, and Beelzebub was far from any mood to deny him. The demon gripped onto one of Gabriel’s wings as they positioned their cock against him. Gabriel lifted his hips and pressed back toward him with a pleading moan. Beelzebub slid inside in one motion and Gabriel whimpered with desire.

“Let me see that cock,” Beelzebub husked. They grabbed Gabriel by the hip and shoulder, guiding him up off the bed and down onto their cock. His strong frame was putty in Beelzebub’s grip. Gabriel gasped, thighs trembling against the demon’s. Beelzebub’s hand drifted over his thigh, relishing the shudder of Gabriel’s weak body against their own. Despite his frailty due to injury, Gabriel’s larger body weighed heavy against their own.

“You made a mezz on the sheets,” Beelzebub noted the wet spot where Gabriel had been grinding against the mattress. “Always a fucking mezz.”

Gabriel leaned into Beelzebub’s smaller frame, seated fully on their cock. “You do this to me, my l-love,” he whispered shakily.

Beelzebub cringed as Gabriel referred to them so sweetly, but felt their cock throb in response. Just what was Gabriel doing to them? They kissed Gabriel’s back as their fingers skated up his thigh to his cock. 

Gabriel reached back to lay a hand on Beelzebub’s thigh, squeezing it in encouragement. His strong frame shook with the effort it took to ride Beelzebub, but he was rewarded with a low buzz of pleasure from the demon. He groaned as he felt Beelzebub’s lips between his trembling wings, and cried out when the soft touch grew sharp with teeth. His body jerked tight around Beelzebub and he thrust forward into the demon’s hand. The pain was exquisite, rewiring his nerves to receive the pleasure of Beelzebub’s familiar touch.

The angel panted as he steadied himself on the bed, braced by his tense arms. Beelzebub fucked Gabriel slowly, savoring it. It had been a long few weeks since Beelzebub had even thought about fucking the angel. Alright--they had  _ thought  _ about it, but even they weren’t so horny and cruel as to fuck his body in so much agony. Now that they were hilted deep in Gabriel, they were going to make the most of it.

Beelzebub licked a slow stripe down Gabriel’s spine, between the ragged wounds. Gabriel let out a strangled moan, fingers knotted in the sheets. The demon felt Gabriel’s cock throb in their hand, and tasted the tang of sweat and blood on their tongue. “Even with your body ruined, you can’t rezizt…” They licked their lips and dared their tongue closer to one of the wounds, lapping up some of the viscous blood oozing out from all of Gabriel’s motion. The angel arched away from Beelzebub’s hot tongue and jerked his hips back to fully hilt Beelzebub inside him.

“Ohh… God…” Gabriel whimpered.

“I’ll make it feel better…” Beelzebub preened as they stroked Gabriel’s shaft and ground their cock deep inside him. Watching Gabriel’s shivering frame, Beelzebub dipped down to taste another of the wounds. The angel’s blood burned on their tongue, but the taste was intoxicating. Beelzebub had tasted angelic blood before, but that had been a very long time ago, when they were freshly Fallen, during the Great War.

Gabriel gasped and tore at the sheets. It was painful, and yet twisted-tender as Beelzebub’s tongue seared against his ruined flesh. He rutted his hips back against his lover’s cock, fucking his own shaft into their hand. The radiating waves of pain heightened the pleasure that spiked every time he bottomed out on Beelzebub’s cock, and kept him from coming too quickly.

“Your ruin tastezz zzo sweet,” Beelzebub whispered against Gabriel’s spine. They kissed the raw edge of a wound and licked the blood from their lips lavisciously.

It should have disturbed Gabriel to have his wounds violated by the demon, but Beelzebub’s tongue was strangely tender, reclaiming the pain from his torture. He shivered as he sank back and pressed closer to Beelzebub. A loud moan filled the dark bedroom as he felt Beelzebub’s breasts soft against his ragged back and that sinful cock push deep.

Beelzebub pressed their face between Gabriel’s wings, lips dragging over the delicate union of feathers and flesh. Gabriel’s hand found the demon’s on his cock and urged it faster.

“Take your pleazzure,” Beelzebub whispered against his strong back and Gabriel thought he would come that instant. It was incredible to experience Beelzebub’s strange brand of tenderness, the pain coming from an utterly different source than usual. All the pleasure he felt came directly by Beelzebub’s hand.

The angel’s wings spasmed as the pleasure reached a fever pitch, laced with the raw feeling of Beelzebub so close, grinding against their over-sensitive body. The demon grabbed one of his wings to still it, trapped it between their bodies, moaning as those sleek feathers pressed between their heated flesh. Beelzebub buzzed in that soothing way as they pumped his cock hard and rode him through his orgasm.

They groaned against Gabriel’s flesh and held him tight as his pulsating body brought them to their peak. They pierced deep into Gabriel as they came, clutching his hulking frame close.

Gabriel whimpered and sobbed. Beelzebub breathed heavy against his back and held him close, lost to that awful smell of blood and sweat and spend.

“Gabriel…” Beelzebub whispered, running a hand up his chest heaving with weak sobs.

“S-sorry.” His voice shook.

“It’zz okay,” they buzzed softly. Beelzebub felt that unfamiliar creeping up of concern. “Are you…?”

“Y-yes,” Gabriel wept.

Beelzebub held Gabriel for a moment longer. His sobs did not bring them the pleasure they would have expected. His pain was not their doing--not directly, anyway. The demon gingerly led Gabriel’s body back to the mattress. The angel’s back was smeared with fresh blood, as was Beelzebub’s front. They slid out from inside Gabriel, and their cock stirred from the sight of their own pale skin so painted with the angel’s blood.

The sight of all that blood was too much to resist. Beelzebub loomed over Gabriel once more and ran their tongue shamelessly over the brassy-gold on Gabriel’s skin. The angel shuddered and clutched at the sheets. Beelzebub gave his side a reassuring squeeze; a silent promise to be gentle. The blood left their tongue tingling, but they couldn’t resist the forbidden taste.

Gabriel’s shaking chest began to still, though the only sounds that came from his mouth were whimpers. Licking their lips, Beelzebub came to Gabriel’s neck and blessed him with a few soft kisses.

“Almost cleaned up,” Beelzebub whispered huskily. “It hurtzz,” they noted in a flat tone. “Do you want me to dose you?”

Gabriel took a shaky breath. “N-not yet…”

“It won’t feel good.”

“I-I know… But I want to f-fall asleep with you i-in my arms. Please.”

Beelzebub frowned, but pressed one more barely-there kiss to his shoulder. “Okay.”

The demon shivered as they sat back and resumed the duty of cleaning Gabriel’s wounds with the rag. The angel’s tolerance for pain was truly impressive. To take pleasure from such agony… Beelzebub felt their admiration for the angel grow just a little bit more.

After dressing Gabriel in fresh bandages--and giving his wings a little more attention to soothe his discomfort--Beelzebub left the angel to get themself cleaned off. It seemed a shame to wash off the shining blood, but Beelzebub had been caked in so much of Gabriel’s blood over the past weeks that it was almost mundane at this point. They basked in the warmth of the fancy waterfall-style spray from the shower head and rolled the taste of Gabriel’s essence around in their mouth.

Beelzebub felt a pull not to take too long in the shower, to return to Gabriel’s side, and it made them frown. They should have hated the way Gabriel spoke so softly to them, his unsinkable tenderness, the untenable way that he insisted his love upon them. They shouldn’t have been taking care of him. He would surely survive without them. And yet… there was this nagging feeling, this irrepressible pull to be with him. It was no sense of obligation because they had gotten Gabriel in this predicament. The whole point of lying to him was to make him miserable. But now, that misery had turned into genuine, honest to God love. And it made Beelzebub… content. Not happy. Never happy. But… fulfilled.

The feeling left a sour taste in their mouth.

Beelzebub turned off the water and toweled themself dry as they walked back to the bedroom. “Zztill awake?”

“Yeah. Hurts like hell,” Gabriel said with a humorless laugh.

Beelzebub apparated another bottle of their “medicine” for Gabriel and joined him on the bed. “Here.”

Gabriel took the bottle and a sip.

Beelzebub took the bottle back and had a sip for themself.

“You’re staying?” Gabriel asked quietly.

“For tonight.” The demon offered the bottle back to Gabriel.

The angel took another sip, then handed it back. He shivered as he rolled onto his side. “I… didn’t know if you’d… want me.”

Beelzebub shot Gabriel an incredulous look. “Why the fuck not?”

“I don’t know…”

“Yeah, ‘cauzze you’re a fucking idiot.”

Gabriel smiled up at Beelzebub. The Lord of Hell rolled their eyes and took another slug from the bottle. They placed it over Gabriel on the bedside table, then slinked down into the bed beside the angel.

“Didn’t know if you’d want me,” Beelzebub said blandly.

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “After all I’ve been through?”

“‘Zzactly.”

“Oh. I see what you mean.”

“Could zztill get in trouble Upstairzz.”

“What’s done is done,” Gabriel replied softly and draped a heavy arm across the demon.

“Think they’ll leave you alone?”

Gabriel took a deep breath. Just that caused his face to crease in a wince. “I think they’ll avoid me,” he said tightly. “Ignore me.”

“Bezzt you can hope for.” Beelzebub adjusted Gabriel’s arm across their torso. Their hand wandered to Gabriel’s hair as they closed their eyes. “You’ll fall azzleep eazzier if you have more.”

“Worth the pain to feel you beside me.”

Beelzebub felt heat creeping up their neck and into their cheeks.

“Will you… do that again sometime?”

“Fuck you bloody?” Beelzebub’s brow tensed as they smirked.

“Not… as such. Clean my wings. And… well, whatever comes after that…”

“Sure.” Beelzebub turned to look at Gabriel and found those lavender eyes soft on them. Something in their chest swelled. “Whenever you want.”


	8. Phone a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub ties up some loose ends before they return to Hell.

“... Hello?”

“Hello?”

“Who is thizz?”

“Who is  _ this _ ?”

Beelzebub groaned. “I thought this was Azzziraphale’s phone.”

“Why do you have his number?”

“For Satan’zz zzake, Crowley, put Azzziraphale on,” Beelzebub growled.

“Lord Beelzebub?” Crowley sounded shocked.

The phone was swiftly snatched away, so that Beelzebub heard their name drift away from the receiver.

“Lord Beelzebub?” Aziraphale’s cheerful voice chirped again.

Beelzebub sighed and already regretted calling. “Yezz.”

“Hello,” Aziraphale said warmly.

“Hi,” they grumbled. “I’m only going to say this once--”

“Why does the Lord of Hell have your number?” they heard Crowley shouting in the background. “Why are they calling you?”

“I told you, Crowley, when I went to visit--” Aziraphale hissed, barely covering the phone. “We’ll talk about this  _ later. _ ”

“You talked about  _ Gabriel  _ calling you! What the hell is Beelzebub doing calling you?!” Crowley shouted.

“ZZAVE THIZZ DOMESTIC FOR LATER,” Beelzebub growled with all the force of Hell behind their voice.

Both entities grew silent. Then, “Hello. Sorry about that. Lord Beelzebub. So nice to hear from you.”

“I’m zzure,” Beelzebub growled.

“What is it that I can do for you?”

Beelzebub felt itchy all over as they huddled in the corner of Gabriel’s main room by the window to the balcony, where they hoped their clandestine phone call wouldn’t be heard. “I’m required in Hell. Obviously.”

Aziraphale was silent for a long moment on the other end.

Beelzebub bristled and pressed the phone more tightly to their ear.

Finally, “Yes?”

Beelzebub felt fit to boil over. “I can’t keep checking in on Gabriel.”

“Oh! Of course,” Aziraphale said warmly.

There was another stretch of silence. “Could… would you…” Beelzebub grit their teeth.

“Ye-ess?” Aziraphale drew it out, much to Crowley’s reluctant pleasure. He loved when Aziraphale leaned into his little-bit-of-a-bastard side.

“Would you check on him?” Beelzebub snapped angrily.

“Of course,” Aziraphale preened. “I would be happy to.”

“Good,” Beelzebub spat and glared angrily at the corner of the room.

“Is he alright?” Aziraphale asked softly.

“He’s fine,” Beelzebub snapped.

“Oh, good,” Aziraphale said, his sweetness sending a shudder of disgust through Beelzebub.

“But his wings--” Beelzebub started, then choked on their words of concern.

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked.

Beelzebub sneered and hated themself very much. “... You should check on his wings. He won’t… admit that they’re bothering him.”

“I see,” Aziraphale said with great understanding.

“Don’t you dare touch them.”

“Of course not, Lord Beelzebub,” Aziraphale promised.

Beelzebub blushed fiercely and thought the phone might break in their grasp.

“That’s only for you to do,” Aziraphale said proudly.

Beelzebub very nearly threw the phone. “That’s not what I…!!” they shrieked.

“Not to worry, my dear. I wouldn’t come close. I’ll check in on Gabriel for you while you’re indisposed. He’ll be very well taken care of.”

“What--?” Beelzebub heard Crowley gasp on the other end of the phone.

“Dear, you know Gabriel’s quite banged up right now,” Aziraphale said to Crowley, slightly muffled by his hand covering the receiver. “And Lord Beelzebub has to return to their duties in Hell.”

“Why are  _ you  _ calling them  _ Lord  _ Beelzebub?”

“That’s what they prefer, dear.” Aziraphale remembered himself and turned back to the phone. “I’m sorry, was there anything else?”

Beelzebub had already hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That wraps up part two! Thank you all so so so much for your wonderful comments every chapter and following along for this wild ride! I know this part was a little short on the smut and heavy on the... heavy-ness, but I can promise you part three will more than make up for the lack of smut kek.
> 
> Oh, but it will be just as heavy. Buckle up, kittens.
> 
> Follow me on twitter [@vol_ctrl](https://twitter.com/vol_ctrl) for updates on when **PART THREE: ENDINGS** will be released!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter [@vol_ctrl](https://twitter.com/vol_ctrl) for up-to-the-minute updates, information on my other projects, and lots of NSFW Good Omens content!
> 
> Thanks to my beta readers on this part, [Jen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fountainjen/pseuds/Fountainjen) and [Paranoia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paranoia/pseuds/Paranoia)!


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